


Stories in the Ink

by Joelcoxriley



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adorable Cole, Awkwardness, Blood Mage as Herald, Blood Magic, Child Death, Childbirth, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fear of Death, First Love, Gift Giving, Human Cole, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Intimacy, Isolation, Knitting, Loss of Faith, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Trust, Loss of Virginity, Nugs, POV Cole, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Past Violence, Slow Romance, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 52,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joelcoxriley/pseuds/Joelcoxriley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange boy once met a foolish girl. He could see stories within her drawings that no one else could. Upon noticing him watch her, Solona offers Cole a chance to draw. After all, what are friends for, if not for finding new ways to have fun?  Or even find Love's first bloom?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eventual Cole/OC with a very slow building romance with multiple layers of intimacy. Set briefly after Cole becomes human, and as such, he is still learning the ways of the world and the complexities of human nature and himself. Non Child-like Cole. A vulnerable young man, but not a child.
> 
> Some chapters will range in length, and graphic material will be more abundant in others. Warning: In later chapters, possible sexual intimacy.

The soft cackling and flicker of light heated the wooden tavern. The fireplace seemed to resonate with mirth, its warm air wrapping the occupants into a lulling stupor-whose drowsy effect was only seconded by ale and mead.

In the far corner, Bull and his Chargers were choralling in victory. Another job had been accomplished, and as such, the tavern of Skyhold would have its very walls shaken to the core from the group's sweltering pride. A rowdy bunch, Bull's Chargers.

Sitting just beside a window, the howls of glory had almost drowned out the softly plucked strings of the bard's lute that had barely managed to reach Solona's ears. The young woman was hunched over her current table, writing utensil in hand, which was furiously maneuvering about the page, turning white various shades of black and grey. Many times she had needed to pause to dip the tip into a bottle of ink before continuing on once more.

Her object of such passion was simple, and natural, for several minutes a seed eater had come to roost upon the window sill, possibly seeking the warmth the fire emitted against the northern winds. The finch was small, black beak short and stubby, body stout and feathers ruffling to fight against the cold. Even the rays of the sun seemed to give the feathered creature no release, for its soft chirps of discomfort could be heard through the solid glass.

Solona had merely watched the creature, black eyes large and shimmering with light from the reflecting rays. It reminded her of the eyes of a Pride Demon-the eyes of such that she had known well. Far too well. But this docile creature was not a demon, no. It was her friend. A friend that was suffering, and seemed far too fragile to survive in the Frostbacks.

Yet despite the chill within the seed eater's body, the bird was alert, for a swift movement of hand from the young mage had frightened it off.

"Oh!" Solona had gasped softly, watching the bird fly off as she had allowed her cramping hand to rest, setting her tools down. At this point, it appeared as if the drawing would remain unfinished. Sighing, the mage slumped within her seat, so focused upon her cramping hand that she had failed to notice a presence from behind her person.

"The spirits like it when you put ink to paper." Solona had visibly jumped, swiveling around to face the voice as she had clutched her drawing to her chest, protective and wary despite recognizing the strange boy, "You make the images bleed onto the page from behind your eyes, filling every pore with grey. Not too black, not too white, but greying. The whispers that shape your dreams-your hopes, your fears, your pains-they like that, like being colored, molded and shaped from pen to sheet. You make them real. You give each shade and shape meaning, a fuller feeling, a greying grey that grasps at the ground to be real-realer. You make the spirits real by bringing to life the pictures behind your eyes. They are no longer looking at a picture of a picture of themselves, but rather them, without the picture of the picture, real. They want to thank you."

His voice was soft and enveloping, as the mist shrouding the mountains in which Skyhold resided. Solona had looked upon the young man, shaking her head, oceanic eyes white and black hair strangled, "Oh, Cole...Please, don't tell Cassandra! She will yell at me for wasting the ink and paper!"

The young mage had continued to fumble over what to say next, pink tongue licking a chapped lower lip, "Don't...Don't scare me like that. Please."

"I'm sorry. I won't scare you." The blonde spoke, head cocking slightly, "I won't tell Cassandra, either. She likes reading about the people Varric brings to life. You and Varric are similar."

"No we are not." The girl mumbled, still clutching her drawing to her chest, as if it were her child, "Varric is good at telling stories and talking to people. I could never tell stories."

"You both tell stories. Varric writes and talks, but he makes his stories real. You put ink on paper, and you make each line, each shade, each shape, real. Like...when you start out, you have a wound that seeped from your mind to your hand to the paper. That wound becomes a scar. So your shades, shapes and ideas are merely scars upon scars upon scars. You are helping the spirits heal, mend and soothe, bleed and scab from the ink. You help them tell their story." Cole replied, head bobbing in a rhythmic pattern as he spoke, eyes almost impossible to see through platinum strands.

"Why do I feel like you are talking about something else?" Solona questioned, frowning as her arms briefly fell lax as her eyes gazed upon her unfinished piece, scarred wrist hidden save to her.

"I am not. A dagger may be a way to let out pain, but it is still a dagger. Old whispers flow through your blood and taint the blade, taint your skin, taint the Fade red...but you are not like Erimond. You help people. You do good with what others fear." The young man with the odd hat spoke, tone gentle yet firm, trying.

The slightest upward tug to the corners of the woman's mouth birthed a soft smile, "It is good to hear that. Thank you, Cole."

"Yes." Compassion nodded briefly-once-fingers now twiddling and interlocking with one another foolishly, "I like your drawing. It is...pretty, striking, hopeful yet sad. It is very bright. I like the colors."

"Thank you, I..."Solona's smile remained upon hearing the boy speak in a slow drawl, though her lips had creased into a piercing lapse of emotion, brow furrowing in confusion as her eyes fell to her drawing before shooting towards the young man. Her blue orbs had repeated the cycle twice, resting upon the oddly dressed youth for a final time, "But...But you didn't see it?"

"I did. Yes. Each line speaks a story of its own. Together, they are your story, something you own as yours." Cole spoke, calloused fingers still intertwining with one another almost clumsily so.

A faint smile had once more graced the woman's features, Solona plucking up the courage to lay her work upon the table for all to see. Slender fingers had wrapped around the pen, the metal point once more being dipped within the black liquid as the apostate began to work once more-if gingerly and cautious.

"How do you know where to put the ink?" The young man questioned, watching almost intently, curious through blonde strands.

"I...don't know. I just try to draw in the right place. But if I don't draw right, the drawing will look wrong." Solona replied, pausing from her touching up as she looked upon the rogue, "...Do you sit? If you want, you can sit down. I could never stand for as long as you do."

After several seconds of silence, stillness, Cole has slowly moved and sat across from her, still curiously looking upon her drawing. Or passed it, "But...how would it look wrong? It is real, so how can it be wrong?"

"If I draw little sparks of lighting around the birdie, or put horns on it...or, or gave it little nug ears...it wouldn't look right. Do you see little nugs breathing dragon fire and having griffin wings and flying in the clouds when outside?" Solona asked, awaiting a response as the bard's tunes began to switch to a more softer, gentle melody.

"Yes. They are in your head, so they are right, real. There's nothing wrong about them looking right." Cole nodded, Solona pausing, trying to think on how to explain.

"But what's in my head isn't right. It's just funny pictures. A nug looks just like a nug. Do you see the same kind of nugs inside my head as you do outside?"

"But...a nug is a nug. The nugs in your head are still nugs, they are still real, just as real as the ones on the outside of your head."

"But the nugs on the outside of my head are real and make little squeally noises. Well...more real? The ones in my head are chubby, dressed as mages and...and don't squeal." Solona spoke, head beginning to hurt from their confusing conversation. Firmly she had rubbed her temples, looking upon him to see what else he would prattle on about.

"The nugs in your head would be more real if you put them on paper. I think they would like that." Cole spoke simply, the mage smiling slowly at his comment.

"I think they would too. But not today. I will have to finish this one first." Solona paused to look upon the drawing, eyes shining as an idea formed, "Would you like to draw?"

"Draw? I don't know. I never tried to draw. Is it hard?" The blonde questioned, head cocked in curiosity, the young girl laughing.

"No, it isn't hard. Fighting with a dagger is harder, I think." Solona smiled, dimples forming as she flipped her drawing over, blank slate facing up.

"Fighting with a dagger is simple. I just put the blade where it needs to be." Cole stated, looking as the mage pushed the ink canister towards him, the black liquid sloshing in the glass.

The girl had grinned, canines showing, "Not for me. I'm too clumsy with a blade. I was twiddling with a stick the other day and accidentally cut myself. I disrespected the knife." Solona laughed at herself, putting the feathered pen in his hand, his being larger than hers.

"...What do I draw?" The young man asked, eyes displaying confusion as he glanced toward the writing utensil in his hand, then to the blank paper just in front of him.

"Whatever comes to mind. Or what you see." The apostate smiled, watching curiously as she brushed some stray strands behind her shoulder, Cole making no move.

"...How do I know where to start?" Cole questioned, hand poised yet still, Solona laughing gently.

"Try to think of it as a dagger...but as a pen for drawing. The pen goes where it needs to go? But the pen tells a story instead with the ink?" Solona tried to reason, though was unsure if she was helping, "...Here...let's start by drawing something simple. Did you ever draw a bird with your hand?...Wait, nevermind. That was a dumb question."

"A...bird with my hand?" The boy was confused, the apostate gently taking the pen from his hold and planting her smaller hand upon the paper, tracing around her palm and in between her fingers, only pausing to revive the ink. Once finished, the young woman had made several additions to the make the hand appear more like a bird.

"Tada!" She grinned widely, spinning the paper towards him to show her childish masterpiece, "Now you can try!"

"Alright. I will try." Cole nodded briefly, Solona once more placing the pen within his hand, smiling, "Just trace your hand. It will be fun!"

The woman had watched eagerly, curiously as Cole had placed his hand upon the paper, following her example, the odd sensation of cold liquid and gentle metal on flesh causing him to squirm a bit.

"There you go!" Solona smiled, grin forming wide as the youth finished after some time, lifting his hand away. He had then attempted to add features such as the childish beak and feet, which had made the mage to laugh. Slowly, in the faintest of expressions, he had smiled too.

"It looks funny." The dark haired girl stifled a laugh, finding the odd proportions amusing.

"It looks real." Cole replied, setting the pen down gently, as if fearful of breaking the writing utensil before looking upon his hand, which was rimmed with black, "...There are stories on my skin...so many stories."

"Don't worry, Cole. There is ink on my hand, too." She had showed him, displaying the patterns of black upon her marked hand, "I'm glad you drew. It was fun."

"Thank you. I never tried drawing before. Thank you for helping me. But it should be the other way around..." Cole spoke, tone grateful, though waning.

"You are welcome." She grinned, blue eyes bright as a flicker of movement caught her attention towards the window, the seed eater having returned.

"Oh." Solona gasped, reaching and flipping over her paper as she continued to work upon the drawing, being careful to capture the details of the chirping creature, "Do you think the drawing looks like it, Cole?"

"Like what, Solona?" The man questioned, eyes curiously falling upon her drawing.

"The bird. Does my drawing look like the bird?" She prodded, hand cautiously at work, slowing as the project became finished, yet the blonde had remained quiet.

"I don't see a bird, Solona." Cole replied after several seconds of silence, the mage frowning at his answer.

"You don't?"

"No. I see the spirits saying 'Thank you'." The boy stated, the answer causing a small smile to grace the mage's features, "Thank you."


	2. Memories Through a Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Foolish Girl whose memories are lost. A Strange Boy helps her to remember--if ever faded, yet deeply cherished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the second. Some chapters will seem random and very short, unfortunately.

The licking flames heated the kitchen and charred the kettle black, water boiling within the metal rim. Perspiration had clung to Solona's brow as she awaited for the water to begin boiling, a basket full of plucked dandelions and their leaves resting upon the table. Even at these high altitudes, Solona was quite surprised the hardy little weed have even managed to germinate within the gardens. Many of the mothers had complained of the cheery flower being an eyesore amidst the beautiful trees within the garden. The young mage, however, had disagreed. She took comfort within the tiny plants, and saw them as her friends.

Indeed, for the years she had lived within the Korcari Wilds, the humble dandelion had thrived, and its mere existence had aided in her survival. There was simply so much one could do with the plant-eat it raw, dry the leaves with salt, wrap smoked strips of venison within boiled leaves...there was just so much. Such a simple way at preparing a meal. And now, in Skyhold, Solona was not entirely accustomed to all the techniques of cooking. Everything just seemed far too...complex. All the hussle and bussle. She had never seen so much of it in one place before. Sometimes, she missed the stillness of the Wilds. At times, Skyhold and her walls felt too much like a Circle. It didn't entirely ease the girl's mind with the knowledge that Templars were currently present within the walls, or that the Inquisition's Commander was one. Or rather, an ex Templar.

Quietly, Solona began to hum a tune she had come to love, nurturing and gentle.Once We Were was a song she dearly admired, though would never dare sing. Not in this life, or the next.

"You can sing, but will not. Why do you not sing?"

Solona had paused in her humming, taken off guard at the presence she had once more failed to realize, head turning towards the boy in stitched leathers, "I...just do not want to sing." She had peered upon the young man, now only realizing he carried a bowl of crushed mints. When did he waltz in here and manage to crush up mints without her noticing?

"You should. You would like it if you sang."

"I am not like the bard at the tavern or Varric, Cole. I draw, not sing." Solona stated, crossing her arms as if in a defensive manner.

"But you can. It would help loosen the knots. It wouldn't tear them." Cole replied, standing stiffly, bowl still in hand.

The young woman sighed, shaking her head, "Please stop. I do not want to think about it." Solona spoke, hand unconsciously drifting to pick up a dandelion, fingers caressing the petals.

Cole's eyes had drifted towards her hands, fragile, familiar yet sad, "It reminds you of home."

Upon hearing those words, a smile toyed upon the edges of the mage's features, "And where is home?"

The young man had paused, as if searching her pain for an answer, though his eyes did not leave the plant within her hands, now cut off from life, "Wherever the dandelion grows. Soft petals lick the naked flesh, core cheery, a symbol of the sun. First comes bright yellow, then white cotton with seeds. 'Make a wish. Make a wish.' Mother says, 'Make a wish then blow, blow your dreams into the skies, and the wind shall carry them to the Maker's side.'...but it never came true. The Maker did not hear my prayers. And now, I am this. The Scorn of the Maker's Chosen. Apostate, Malificar-Blood Mage. The Maker would not listen to me as a girl. He will not listen to me now."

"No. He would not." Solona assured softly, "The Chantry teaches us that Blood Mages will not have peace in this life, or the next. I did not want to become tranquil. So now, I am this."

"You miss your mother. And your father. You wanted to keep their memories safe. You didn't want to lose them. That's why you like dandelions. They are your parents. What you remember." Cole spoke, stated as his eyes moved towards her own, looking behind her eyes, for she lived in her head, "I'm sorry they took you away from them."

"I am sorry, too. Do you remember much of your parents?" Solona questioned, curious.

The odd boy looked upon her, staring for several seconds before speaking, "No."

"Oh. I am sorry."

"You shouldn't. I do not hurt. Thank you, though. You are trying to help me, but it should be the other way around."

"We are friends? Friends help each other." The girl smiled, pausing to wipe the sweat from her brow, water just beginning to boil.

"Like with you helping me where to put ink on the paper?" Cole questioned, trying to comprehend through heavy bangs.

"Yes, like that." Solona nodded in confirmation, smile turning into a grin as the young man's lips ever so faintly molded into a hesitant beam.

"Friends. Yes. I like how that feels, how when you use it, you give the word its true meaning. It is good." The rogue spoke, hat bobbing rhythmically as he spoke.

"I am glad you like that." The young woman's eyes soon fell to the plant within her hands, thoughts churning, "Cole, you hear things? See things? Like...things people like...me can't? Is...is this dandelion dead? Did it ever truly live?" Solona prodded, fumbling upon her words, tongue tied.

Cole nodded, understanding her meaning despite her wording and focused upon the plant, silent for several seconds, "It's...uh...cold, dark, damp without sunlight, lost in darkness, no food, no water, starving, drowning in the cold, still, but not still. Dying slow, yellow cheer fading, stem bent and broken, torn from an earthen home...yet a new home in hands, small, fragile, tender...warm. No fear, no sadness but...peace."

The young man had then faltered, focusing anew, "It likes the way its broken body rests in your hands, caring yet firm, like the womb it resided in down below where Old Songs sing. It is content no matter what its fate. You don't have to worry, Solona. It understands."

The woman had remained quiet, listening to what he had said, "Thank you. I know it's silly, but...I've been thinking if plants are alive, just like people. But I can't feel a heartbeat to them, and they are cold to touch, so they have no blood. But if you break the stem you can see liquid ooze out of it. Is that the plant's blood? But...hmmmm...they are kind of like...demons. Spirits, I think? If they are not like people...they must be like spirits. Because...Because spirits don't bleed, and plants don't bleed...and spirits are cold...but not rage demons...oh! Despair demons are cold!"

"...But...I am not a dandelion." Cole stated, slow, tongue twisting into a roll.

"...No...no, you are not. Either way...thank you. For helping me. Thank you for trying." She smiled gently, the knot tied too tight.

He had nodded, head bobbing slightly, "Yes. That...is what friends do? I...don't know. I hope I say it right."

"Yes, that's right. That's what friends do. Help each other. But...what are you doing with the mints?" Solona questioned, curious as her eyes focused upon the boy.

"The cats like to play." Cole stated, and upon realizing that was the only answer he was going to give, the young mage left it at that.

"There are kitties here? I didn't know that!" Solona exclaimed, the bubbling and boiling of the raging water briefly drawing her attention away from Compassion as she focused on preparing the leaves, setting the lone little weed upon the table.

Once finished, the woman had turned her attention towards the odd man, only to find the kitchen completely vacant save for herself. Looking, high and low, but finding so sign, she had simply shook her head. Gingerly did her hands once more envelope the dandelion that lay upon the wooden table, otherworldly words whorling within her mind in wonder.

"Peace..." Solona had echoed softly, that simple word ringing within her head. Odd how such a tiny thing sounded so strong. Her eyes had fallen to the vibrant core of the small plant, cheer slowly fading.

"Dandelions never lie." She had quoted, for it was something her mother had said numerous times-though for the life of her, she could not remember why-for at the time she was merely four winters.

Her mind had continued to dwell upon what Cole had said, Solona merely standing still, holding the broken creature. She did not mind. The dandelion took solace in her kindness, in her tiny hands that commanded the very Fade. In that moment, holding and caring for that simple plant had meant the world to her. For within her hand, she was allowed to relive the memories of a little girl that was meant to be anything but this. With the dandelion within her hands, she was allowed the hold the hands of her parents through a memory-however faded, yet deeply cherished.


	3. Dandelions Never Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Dandelion is just a weed, yes? But what if it could tell the truths which were long since forgotten in one's memory?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just as an early warning, these chapters will switch from rather emotional moments will all the tears and the waterworks to carefree moments. Generally having something to do with loss of family, one's purpose or dealing with past demons. Thank you for reading thus far and please enjoy!

  


"Cole?...Why are we out here?" Solona questioned, the pair in the courtyard of Skyhold. The young mage had appeared flustered at the rogue's urgency to follow him, though at this point was unsure as to why he was so urgent in a matter.

  


"The flowers want to you to remember. A young girl's face felt alight by the summer's sun, sweltering as Mother walks to a field of dancing gold to and fro, glimmering and glistening within the gale." Cole sputtered as he spoke, the crisp wind gently blowing as the sun's rays poured upon the ground. The mountains were far from hot at this elevation, yet the magic within the ancient fortress appeared to keep the temperature rather mild in degree.

  


"Oh. My mother used to tell me dandelions never lie. Though I don't remember what that means. If that's what you want to help me with." The girl spoke, assuming that was what had spilled from their conversation some days ago. If not, she was at a loss.

  


"Your mother remembers. She would want you to. She remembers through the dandelions. You can remember through the flowers too, if you try." The young man stated, taking the time to sit just underneath the great stone walls of the battlements, several of the aforementioned flora nestled within the grasses.

  


"I'm not sure how to remember through a flower." Solona muttered, taking the time to sit beside him, the cool yet strong stone digging into her back in jagged chips. Her oceanic eyes had scanned the soft blue skies that were dotted with wisps of clouds, the rays of fire in the sky harming her eyes, and preventing her from looking at the heavens for too long.

  


Slowly, the fragile hand of the woman had outstretched towards the skies, Solona giggling softly, "It is so strange. When I look up at the sky, it looks as if the clouds are just above my head. But when I reach up, the clouds are far too high up for me to reach them. I wonder if the puffy ones feel like cotton? They always seemed soft to me."

  


"Like the Black City in the Fade. Yes. Always there, always so close you can almost touch it, but so far away." Cole spoke, leaning over to gingerly pluck a yellowed dandelion from the ground, Solona now watching his actions in curiosity.

  


"You worry that your mother doesn't love you, fret about what you could have been to your parents. You are afraid that if you think about the daughter they could have had rather than the one they remember, that they won't love you anymore. But that isn't true, Solona. Your parents love you, they miss you, and their love is in the flowers. But the knots are tied so tight that you forget, can't remember. Their love is in the dandelion, but you forget how the open yourself to their love. You can remember, remember how you did as a little girl, how they loved you then-and still love you. You just have to listen to what the flower says." The young man's voice drifted into the wind, calm and steady as the flower twirled between his thumb and pointer.

  


Solona's brow furrowed in concern as a frown creased her features, "How do I listen to the flower?"

  


"Do you love your mother and father?" Cole questioned, the girl nodding.

  


"Of course I do. Why?"

  


"Do you think your parents still love you, Solona?" The young man continued to pry, the young woman pausing in thought, brain wracking.

  


"I...think so? I would hope so. They haven't seen who I have become, or what I have done. They just know I am a mage, and possibly not even alive." She cleared her throat, freezing as she felt a wrapped knuckle gently press under her chin, Cole pushing her head slightly upward, body leaning forward to do so.

  


"Stay still." He had murmured softly, almost cooing as he raised the cheerful dandelion just under her chin, Solona confused, though stifled a laugh as the thin, finger like petals licked her flesh.

  


"C-Cole...th...that tickles! Maker, what are you doing?" Solona asked, laughter bubbling from her belly. It took her several seconds to notice the tiny shard of a mirror the odd boy had produced from his pocket-or she had assumed-and the reflection had turned her eyes white, for they had shown a memory she had long since forgotten.

  


"...Cole? Wha..." She questioned, dumbfounded, "How did you..."

  


"Dandelions never lie, Solona. Your mother knew that. She passed it onto you, but you forgot." Cole spoke, voice gentle, Solona's eyes unable to break away from the cheery flower turning her chin a mustard hue, even without the reflection of the sun, for the pair lay in the shade, "Now you remember what you have forgotten, hope restored and faith renewed. Your parents love you, Solona. Their love is in the dandelions. They send their love through the flowers to you. That's why there are so many dandelions here. Their love follows you and makes them grow. You never left your parents, Solona. You just forgot that you never left them. And now, you are together, connected through love. You, your parents, and the flowers, together like you all used to be."

  


"I...I think I see. I remember now! I remember why Mother always said that phrase! I forgot, but now...now I remember." The young mage had smiled, though it was sullen and sorrowful as much as relieved and joyful, Cole slowly beckoning the yellow weed from her chin, "But...you almost make it sound..."

  


She had paused, lips trembling involuntarily, "Cole...if-if they are the dandelions...are they...dead?" Solona asked, voice quavering as her eyes looked upon his through heavy bangs.

  


"They loved you, Solona. Still love you. That's...all that matters." Cole answered, finding himself unsure of what to say, unsure if he could make the hurt the go away.

  


"O...Oh. I...um...I see." The girl had frowned, clearing her throat as her face began to flush from the emotional turmoil. Cole's lips had lightly formed into a frown as he saw the mage try in vain to shield her watering eyes with her hair and hands, the floodgates breaking as she began to sob, if ever so quietly.

  


"I'm sorry they died." Cole apologized softly, unsure how to stop the stabbing hurts as her shoulders shook and rocked her tiny frame. Hesitantly, his hand snaked towards her own, cautious, and almost shy as their fingers lightly touched, dancing from tip to tip, flesh brushing flesh. When she did not pull away, Cole slowly wrapped his hand around hers, hoping to give her some form of comfort-if only so small.

  


Solona's small hand was shaking from her pain, palm drenched in sweat, though he did not release his hold. If anything, it appeared to rebuff the young man's efforts at comfort, his hand now enveloping hers firmly yet gently. For several minutes the pair had sat there, Cole patiently awaiting for her to calm, Solona's sobs subsiding, pain dulling.

  


Solona took the time to wipe her tears, eyes red rimmed before using her free hand to brush stray strands behind her ears, voice weak and faltering, "I...I'm..sorry."

  


"Don't be sorry. It's okay." Cole replied, the girl calming at his voice.

  


"Thank you, Cole. I-oh. You...you can let go of my hand now, please." The mage stammered, slowly realizing that their hands were still interlocked.

  


"Oh. Sorry." The boy mumbled, beckoning his hand back, Solona producing a weak smile.

  


"Your hand is cold. But mine is...sweaty and gross." She laughed, face now flushing more from embarrassment, though it was something the young man seemed to fail to notice, "But...thank you. Thank you for helping me remember."

  


"You are welcome. I am glad to help."

  


  



	4. Showing One Cares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showing you care can come in things both big and small. For Solona, she struggles to turn her small hobbies into useful gifts for others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. This is a rather short and simple chapter, for which I apologize. The next chapter will be longer, and have a much deeper meaning regarding religion, purpose, and the afterlife.

Solona smiled, walking up the stairs to the third floor of the tavern. She knew the strange boy in leathers would be in the same corner he always was, listening and observing, noticing while he himself remained unnoticed. He was always in the darkest corner, near several crates and a chest, perhaps even a tiny table.

If one were not observant enough-or perhaps, if the young man did not wish to be seen-they would fail to notice his presence, several people oblivious to his mere existence. But Solona was not. She had seen his lithe form in the grasping darkness, clothes merely conjoined leathers and cloths. But more importantly, she could see him because he had wanted her to see him.

"Cole!" Solona greeted, smiling towards her odd friend as Compassion turned towards her, eyes concealed through platinum strands.

"Yes? I am here." The spirit responded, giving the young mage his attention. Or at least as much as the hurts would allow him to.

"I have something for you. They took me a while to make, but I hope you like them. They are...um...well, something I made in my spare time." Solona cleared her throat, cheeks flushed a tinge of red from embarrassment as she fiddled with something housed within a pocket. In time, her hand had pulled out knitted mittens, a dull brown in color with various patterns molded within. It was quite obvious she had taken precious care and time to make the articles of clothing, "Here...mittens."

"Mittens?" Cole questioned, studying the pair within her hand, though had made no move to take them, "I...don't understand."

"They are gifts. I...I noticed your hands were cold a while back, and I just thought...that with the cold...I-I hope I got the size right. I didn't know. I just knew they were bigger than mine. I made ear-mittens for Solas, too. I thought that since elves have such big, pointy ears it's harder to keep them warm. And since Solas has no hair to help keep his ears warm, I...just...thought..." Solona had faltered, voice dying as she realized she was rambling, nerves a wreck and throat dry. Though it appeared Cole did not notice, and was far more interested in the mittens.

"Gifts represent...emotions. Gifts mean you care. But these are real, tangible, not intangible..." The young man spoke, taking them from her hands and gingerly running a thumb over the knitted fabric, "Soft and warm, fingers stiff, wrist cramping, needles foolishly jabbed into flesh, too many sleepless nights, hands too shaky to thread the needle. What should I be doing, should I be doing this? Knitting with foolish hands a talent I don't have?...knitting means you care and cherish."

"I see the looks they give me. Solas seemed confused that someone would waste their time making such a trivial thing for his ears. I guess that is because he is used to his ears being cold, but he still showed kindness. He took them because he didn't want to upset me. The same happened with Iron Bull. I made him socks for his horns. I don't know what it's like to have horns, but they always feel cold. So I thought I could try to make them warm. I made his horn socks pink. I heard Iron Bull liked the color pink. But I know he doesn't bother wearing them. I know people see me as a foolish girl, wasting her time on small things, and maybe I am wasting my time, but I'm trying to help. Small things turn into big things. But the mark on my hand helps with big things, even though it hurts. If I focus too much on the big things, I forget how to help with the small things." The young mage spoke, exhaling deeply as her shoulders heaved.

"You help the little hurts as well as the big hurts. You are the one that can calm the spirits and dull their pain. They like listening to you. You ground them. You soothe the spirits, the whispers. Herah mends the skies." Cole replied, thumb still brushing against a knitted mitt.

Solona smiled sullenly, "Everyone helps in their own ways, I suppose. No matter how large or small. But I hope they fit. I know they aren't much in combat, but-"

"They are fine, Solona." The young man stated, mittens dawned as he found them restricting upon his fingers, limiting their natural movement. Yet, despite their flaws, they were enveloping his hands in soft cotton, "It is nice to know you care. Thank you." Cole replied, attempting to almost clumsily interlock his fingers, though had forgotten about the mittens, and thus could not.

"You're welcome, Cole. I'm glad you like them. If you want, I could patch your hat up sometime."

"What is wrong with my hat?" Cole questioned, concerned over the well being of his favored article of attire.

"I saw a few holes in it. There's a big hole on the side. I can fix those for you, but I can't fix the burns from dragon fire." Solona commented, the blonde frowning ever so slightly.

"I don't want to ruin my hat."

"Don't worry, Cole, I'll save your hat. I will just need to get my kit...or perhaps I can borrow Krem's?" Solona paused in thought, though had pushed it from her mind, "I will be back, okay?"

"Yes." Cole nodded briefly, returning back to observing and listening from the shadows, the mittens soft against his calloused hands.


	5. Testing One's Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weight upon one's shoulders in a time of depravity is left unmeasured. Yet, what remains to be the greatest burden is losing faith in spirituality, and in the process, losing oneself and abandoning all bonds of fellowship. The Strange Boy will not let her fall like the Hawk did.

A heavy moon rose proudly over the stone fortress of Skyhold, clouds absent and air chill. The foolish girl and strange boy had sat high upon the battlements, a slab of solid stone between them. The wind was thick and heavy with tension, too many things to say, yet too little sense of how to word them. Foolish tongue tied and hair swirling around a thin finger, nibbling upon the dead ends did Solona sit, anxious and tense. The boy so close yet so far away was just as on edge, posture wooden and ridged, brooding in thought.

Solona had bit her lip, trying to speak, but found her jaw clamped shut. She wanted to say something, but anything she had attempted to say within her head to speak had sounded too forced, too abrupt, too foolish. Should she say sorry? Was it the right time to say sorry? Or had that time already passed? But what was she truly sorry for? Her friend and his own closure? His safety? Or her own life?

She had dwelled within her own thoughts, plagued with vast paranoia and lack of sleep ever since the events in the Arbor Wilds-which had been three nights ago. After that, each night, every night, the pair would sit upon the battlements and simply wait-though for what, the mage did not know. Or rather, at least the girl was waiting. Waiting for Corypheus. Waiting for the end. She did not know what Cole was waiting for, or even thinking. He did not speak a word to her ever since they had reached the Well of Sorrows-yet she drank not from the well.

Solona did not understand. Her friend was ignoring her-if he even had remained her friend. At least he was tolerating her presence. Perhaps it was not a complete rejection of companionship, as she had feared.

The young girl had frowned, cerulean eyes rimmed with crystals. She could handle many things, but not this. Not the odd boy's rejection, indifference. She did not want to be an outsider to an outsider. She did not want to be abandoned by her dearest friend. The pain had wretched her heart, each pulse bringing the sharp stab of a new wave. What hurt the most was that she did not even know what she had done to distance herself from her friend.

She had tried not to look at him-had pretended he was not even there. Just her, and the cold stones. Briefly, Solona had wondered what would happen if she had slowly allowed herself to creep towards the sharp edge. To just push herself off. Would it feel like flying? Would it hurt? What would happen? It surely would be a more swift death than Corypheus would ever grant her. It was not like she was needed to close the Breach or any smaller rifts. Her mark was corrupt. All it could do was bend the will of lesser demons and open rifts. Herah was the one the Elder One wanted. She was needed far more than Solona. Even the girl's insight on what to do was rarely ever given weight-or seriousness, even though she tried her damnedest to help.

Perhaps she could see her parents again, beyond the Fade? Or perhaps not. The Chant of Light spoke that Blood Mages would not find peace in this life, or the next. Killing oneself was also a sin in the eyes of the Maker, but was it really that damnable? She was already a Blood Mage. What more was there to damn?

Solona's brows furrowed, and her face lit up in flushed rage, eyes stinging. It seemed like she was the Maker's jester. Wait for Corypheus, most likely suffer a merciless death, die damned. Just push herself off the battlements, end it swift, still die damned.

The young mage tried to wipe the tears that had now flown freely, but to no avail. Her own foolishness had led her down a dark path, and had now damned her in death. She would not see her parents, she would not go to wherever it was the spirits of morals went. She would be a simple shadow, a little whisper of a memory of a girl that was too dumb to see the risks of Blood Magic. Blood Magic had taken her life, and her death. But it could not take her dying. And Corypheus would not have her blood on his blighted talons. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of fulfilling his twisted pride.

Briefly, Solona had wondered what it was like to fly like the white cotton with brown, almost black seeds the dandelions made. For a moment, she thought she could fly too, up, up, in the sky, and go somewhere safe. Somewhere-

The young woman had gasped as she had fallen from her perch, wing rustling and limbs flailing against the pull of a force upon her stomach. She was unsure what to think, and for a second believed herself to be flying, for she had risen well over the stone she was sitting upon, suspended, legs dangling. And just as she had flown, she had come crashing down, falling backwards, knees skinning the rough stone upon the battlements' floor. She had then realized she had fallen backwards, though did not hit solid stone like she had feared-but a softer, solid mass.

"No-no, no. No, no, no, no, no, no-" Soft whispers had spoken, swift and frantic, breath strangled from the speaker, calm lost and now clammered, "Do not flit!-Do not fly!-Do not fall!"

"C-Cole?" Solona had breathed, limbs tangled in a heap, an iron grip far too tight around the belly, "C..."

"You are not a hawk! The hawk can flit, flutter, fly, but you cannot! Hawks are meant to fly, to land, not to fall, but a hawk did! You cannot fly, and so can fall! You cannot fall like the hawk did that was meant to fly!" The boy had whaled, arms shaking around the girl's waist, though the grip did not falter no matter how hard Solona had tried to squirm free.

"Cole..." The mage had struggled to speak, perplexed. She could hear Cole's frantic breathing, feeling his chest heave against her back. Stone was jaggedly pushing against his spine, though he had moved not, nor did he register the pain in his skull from the fall backwards. He had tried to save her. But the hurts were too much. Her hurts hurt him. Her hurts made him feel new hurts.

"Corypheus died...but then he-he came back. You can't come back. You won't come back." Cole murmured, voice falling softer, ragged breath in her hair, "...Do not go where I cannot follow. Please."

Solona had gone slack, earnest words echoing within her head that had caused her head to shake against his chest, tears trickling down her cheeks. She had thought wrong. For three days and their nights she had thought she had done something to ruin her friendship. She had thought he had disliked her, did not care, did not worry. But he did worry. He worried what Corypheus would do, what he would wrought. Corypheus could-would kill his friend. And he would not be able to follow.

For three nights the pair had sat high upon the battlements, waiting. Solona had thought she was waiting for Corypheus, fretting and fearing what his coming would bring: death. And in fearing death by his hand, she had sought death by her own. In believing she had been waiting for Corypheus, she had thought she had been waiting for death. In believing she had been waiting for death, she had then sought what she truly had been waiting for: a relationship she had thought ruined; a true friend, a pure love. He had just been waiting for her to realize that. Possibly silently fretting, even, if Corypheus had come first, and she had waited too long.

"I...am so sorry...I-Cole, I didn't mean to hurt you, too...I..." Solona had faltered, a gentle fall of water carving her features in the moonlight, her arms now cradling his. He was still shaking. Or maybe she was the one shaking now. She could not tell.

"I didn't think. I never think! I thought...I didn't know! I never know! I don't know, and I'm scared! I'm scared to die, but I'm scared more of Corypheus-scared of pain-of what he'll do! I'm not strong like Cassandra, I'm not brave like Blackwall, I'm not smart like Solas, I'm not skilled like Dorian or Vivienne-I couldn't even take the Harrowing!" The young woman had spoke, pain spilling forth, "I...I just want my Moma and Popa! I wanted them to be proud! I wanted them to see me get married, to see their grandchildren-someday. I...I wanted to see them, find them. Wanted to see them, but I was scared! But how can they be proud of a mage? How can they love a Blood Mage? They can't-all because they're dead, and I can't see them! The Maker won't let me! It says so! It say so in the Chant of Light! The Maker took them away so I can be tormented because of what I am!"

The woman had paused for breath, breathing ragged and throat course. She was screaming. She was crying and screaming, and she did not even realize it. She didn't even realize her vice like grip had now tightened around the boy's own hold of her waist. Solona had felt the tears sting and burn, blurring her vision, yet the flushing heat she had felt from her cheeks were far hotter than any dragon's fire, "Everyday I hear the soldiers speak the Chant of Light. They spit on the ground every time there is mention of maleficarum, spit out the word like it is venom, say those that use it are damned. And maybe we are, maybe I am, maybe that is why I have this mark. But what if we are trying to do good? What if we realized we made mistakes and want to help? Does that mean anything? Is this a test of some kind? Will the Maker let me see my parents when I die as a reward? Can the Maker forgive blood mages? I...I thought it didn't matter. I thought that no matter how I die, I would be cursed, and not able to see my parents. I was scared of what Corypheus would do...so I thought...falling...I thought what more could I do to sin? It's just one more sin...but I didn't know. I didn't even know I was hurting you, Cole! I-I didn't even think-"

Solona had suddenly fallen silence, lips sewn shut, body shaking and head buried into the youth's chest, ashamed and hiding, "...I never want to be selfish again. I never want to hurt anyone like that. Not you..."

"Shhhhh...it's alright. You didn't know." The blonde murmured gently, trying to sooth and heal, the mage shaking her head.

"No. No, it isn't. I can never be selfish again. When the Elder One comes...I won't run, no matter how scared I am. I want to try and be brave, and strong. I want to show all of Thedas that they are wrong. I want to show them that Blood Magic can be good, even if it is just a little bit of help." The woman had paused, "Thank you. Thank you for being a true friend."

"Yes. I like being your friend." Cole replied, back sore from being awkwardly pinned against the stone wall, though did not move.

Solona smiled, "Oh...Cole?"

"Yes?"

"...I'm sorry for being scared."

"That is alright."

"...and for scaring you, too."

"You are safe now."

"...and for being a bad friend."

"I don't think you are a bad friend. I like being friends with you."

"Oh. Well..." Solona had paused, unsure what to say. She had wanted to move, but her body had felt like she were covered in heavy armor-most likely from her emotional and mental turmoil. The mage had felt much better, now. She simply felt tired, though through her haze she had gazed upon the stars, wondering what Corypheus would do to them if he won. Would he be able to touch them simply by outstretching his hand? When she tried, she could never touch anything. The stars and clouds were too far away, even then they appeared to be just above her head.

"...Solona?"

"Yes?" The girl questioned, alerting upon hearing the soft voice of her friend, "Do you want to get up?"

"No...I just don't like Corypheus."

"Oh. Well, neither do I. His face gives me a headache when I look at it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and supporting!


	6. Protector in Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illness is not picky on whom it infects. In this case, the Foolish Girl is unfortunate, and left at the mercy of the fever wracking her body. After the battlements, however, the Strange Boy will not let her fall, be it by blade or sickness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and supporting thus far. I hope you enjoy. If you have any criticism or comments, feel free to let me know.

Solona groaned, a mere lump under a twisted and chaotic mass of comforters, pillows strewn about onto the floor. The young mage slowly opened her eyes, lids heavy and skin plastered in sweat. Her vision blurred, and the woman attempted to clear her sight by rubbing a knuckle against her closed eyes.

Slowly she had sat up, kicking the furred covers off of her person, nightgown drenched in sweat as goosebumps immediately began to form upon her skin. It was a constant, endless cycle. Fist she was hot, then she was cold, then hot, then cold. She felt ill, sick and disgusting as she wiped the excess drool from her jaw left agape during a deep slumber, saliva staining the pillow and even her bare shoulder.

Licking her chapped lips, Solona got out of bed and stood, legs wobbling and body swaying. However, the vertigo from her fever held a strong hold over her, and she had ungracefully sat down upon her bed, the room spinning as if she were shrouded in mist.

"Hhhgggn...thirsty." She rasped, throat dry and sore, head pounding as she didn't have the strength to rise again. All her body wanted was to fall back into a deep sleep until the fever broke.

'Maybe...this is what it feels like to die...I feel terrible enough...' Solona thought, mind reeling to make sense of the matter, 'I bet...thing...the...the Qunari...never eat cake. Or...get sick.'

Heaving ill breath from her lungs, the mage fell back upon her bed in an exhausted heap, staring unfocused at the ceiling. Her tongue had swirled around within it's dark home, tissue dry and pained as Solona had attempted to clear her throat of clumping mucus. The mage had then coughed, rough and jagged heaves that stung her chest as she swallowed the phlegm, stomach quivering.

Feeling as if poison were in her belly, Solona moaned in discomfort, closing her tired eyes, though was afraid if she had surcumbed to sleep she would never wake. Resting her heavy lids, though trying to fight off sleep, she had then felt a hand caress her forehead-cool and gentle.

At first, Solona did not bother to open her eyes, for sweat would surely render her sight poor if she did. Through the haze of fatigue and illness, she had thought that she had raised her own hand to wipe the film of perspiration from her brow. Struggling her mind to awaken, it was then she had noticed that the hand was not of her own, for both arms were heavy and felt laden with weights.

Solona opened her bloodshot eyes, blurry gaze slowly focusing upon the blonde before her. At first, she did not register who the odd man in leathers was, or how he had even managed to slip into her chambers, but here he was. Touching her heated body with a chilled hand.

The young woman had opened her mouth to speak, to try and say something, though found her throat too parched, cool hand leaving her brow, "Shhhhh."

The blood mage was perplexed and dumbfounded as Cole had briefly leaned over her to snake an arm around the small of her back, the man helping her into a sitting position. It was then she realized that in his free hand he had carried a cup of water, "Here."

She had stared upon the offering for several seconds, a feminine hand rising to grasp the wooden cup before placing her dry lips upon the brim, sips slow before gaining in greed. Stray droplets had run down chin and neck, and even after the cup had run dry, her thirst was not quenched, and only seemed to grow.

"Thank...you." Solona had smiled, breathing deeply as she set the object upon a nearby table, stomach rumbling in disturbance.

"It's okay. You don't have to worry." Cole murmured, taking a damp cloth and gingerly wiping her brow of vile sweat, the girl confused upon his actions.

"You will not fall. Not like the hawk." The boy spoke, allowing the cloth to glide along her temples and the ridge of her nose.

"Not by your own hand..." Solona had sat idle as the man had dabbed the fabric gently upon her eyes, holding them shut to avoid harm

"Not by Corypheus..." She had felt the damp material slide over her cheeks and chin, Cole carefully propping her chin up to clean her neck, touch gentle over burning skin.

"Not by illness." He had finished, setting the cloth down, the girl confused by his being in her chambers. He was not in the mode to speak, but rather...seemed interested in looking after her well being. She was not sure if that was his true intention, but she did not want him here. There were more important things he could be doing. She was not that important in the grand scheme of things. Unless...she was important to him? She did not want to dwell upon the topic for too long-it made her head hurt.

"I...thank you." She had smiled weakly, sniffing as the male youth stiffly smiled-if ever so faintly.

"You are welcome."

"I don't want to-to sound mean, but...I don't think you should be here. I don't want you to get sick, too." Solona muttered, laying down upon her side.

"But I can help...I like helping you." Her comment had caused the boy to frown, Cole rising and gingerly draping the comforters over her form.

The girl had smiled at his efforts, the blonde taking a seat beside her bed, looking upon the ground in thought for several seconds, head cocking in thought.

"...I don't know if I can get sick. I never tried."

Solona chuckled, eyes closing as she fell into slumber, no longer afraid of never being able to wake.

Cole had sat there, watching her chest slowly rise and fall with tired breathes. Slowly, his calloused fingers had caressed her face, brushing several stray strands out of her closed eyes.

"A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dark dank, a captured apostate...I couldn't...I couldn't save him. But maybe, if I try...I can save you. I think...Cole would have liked you." The boy spoke, remembering and recalling before falling silent.

"I like you."


	7. Lake Luthias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Strange Boy fears as much as anyone else. Some fears are easily broken, whilst others are not. For a spirit turned flesh, sinking into the watery blackness and falling eternally into the abyss is one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear my terrible writing ability and stupid one shots! And my god awful OC! On the plus side, a larger chapter! Please enjoy.

Solona hummed softly to herself as she held a white lily in her two fingers, the young mage sitting upon the dock of Lake Luthias. The lily had rested upon a small offering bowl filled by the village girls, hoping the apparent spirit would grant them wishes of love by giving flowers as tribute. Solona looked at the white flower, wondering how many young hearts were cruelly crushed upon finding their wishes unanswered. She hoped not many. She knew how painful is was to be used by a man. She thought he loved her as much as she loved him. She was wrong. And she was too stupid to realize it, too dumb, not smart enough, not intelligent enough. Sometimes she wished she could be smarter. Then maybe she wouldn't be knitting or drawing or making small crafts as much out of various objects and knick knacks she found on her little misadventures. Maybe if she could study Herah enough, she could not only take her form, but magically gain her strength and intelligence as well. Demons and spirits could turn into people and animals. Solona could turn into animals. Why not people?

Solona began to wonder what it would be like if she could morph into Herah. She would have horns, for one thing, and a constant bitchy scowl upon her face. She wondered what having horns felt like. Were they heavy? Could Herah sleep on her back, or would her horns gore the pillow? If she bent over enough, would Herah do a total front flip or just faceplant? Solona wondered what the world looked like from so high up. Herah was almost as tall as Bull, and towered over the blood mage. Herah was six feet and ten inches. Solona was five feet and two inches. If Solona were that tall, she wouldn't have to hurt her neck just to look up and talk to the tallest members in the Inquisition. Almost everyone was taller than her. Except Varric. But not by much. It was embarrassing, and unlike a Dwarf, she wasn't built stocky. She was lean and slender. A tragedy for Solona when she wasn't trying to look like a twig and get some muscles.

At the moment, her official nickname by Varric was Slinky. At least it wasn't Ditsy, Clumsy, Blood Mage, or Twig. Maybe she could convince the man to call her something else. Once she cracked open a book and got some more muscles. Maybe then he would change her nickname to something else.

Her lips pierced together, boots resting on the docks as her toes were tickled by the cool waters. It may have been dangerous to go out here alone, but that was okay. She knew Herah and Bull were back at the camp, resting. Solona knew they liked having time to themselves, even if it just was in a tent. And apparently liked bondage. Solona wasn't too sure if she would like that...

Her blue eyes had turned from the lily twirling within her fingers to the offering bowl, filled to the brim. Maybe the girls would have gotten their wishes if they had chosen dandelions instead? Solona wasn't sure. All she knew was that these lilies were picked for no reason. Until now.

He loves me...

Her finger had gently plucked a petal from the flower, feeling childish at thinking this. She had a beautiful lily in her hand, and the first thing she did was play a stupid, childish game.

He loves me not...

She plucked a second petal, musing. It was a joke. A joke on herself, more like it. She had no one that was interested in her, and that was okay. At least she had her dreams and childish fantasies she never seemed to outgrow. And if the flowers said 'no', she could always cheat and make them say 'yes'.

"He loves me...He loves me not...He loves me...He loves me...not..." Her brow creased slightly as a frown fell upon her face, hitting the last petal.

"Who loves you not?"

"Damn it, Cole!" Solona jumped, heart starting into overdrive at the man she did not know was even there-or for how long. She had thrown the petals into the lake, as if to hide her shame, legs jerking and water spritzing as she turned to face him. Sure enough, the boy in leathers was there, standing behind her as if he had been there for quite a long time. Cole's lips, however, were molded into a slight frown, as if he had done something wrong.

"I'm sorry, Solona."

The young woman had mimicked his facial expression, "No, it's fine, Cole. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. I shouldn't have. You just scared me, that's all."

"I didn't mean to..." Cole murmured, Solona rising from her seat on the docks, the wood warmed from the sun and beginning to burn her drying feet as she hopped from one foot to the other, "...are you alright?"

"The wood is hot on my feet. The water feels good on them. Did you ever put your feet in the water?" The young woman questioned, the blonde shaking his head.

"No. I don't know if I can swim. I never tried."

Solona's eyes turned white at the confession, "Never?"

"No, never. Is that strange?" The boy asked, Solona biting her lip, as if in thought, "No...but what if we go on a ship and it sinks and you can't swim? You would drown! I can try and teach you, if you want, I mean." She cleared her throat, Cole remaining quiet, as if in thought.

"How does one swim?" Cole questioned, curious as he looked upon the girl through platinum strands before his gaze had fallen to the floating petals.

"Well...ummm...here, first sit down and put your feet in the water, okay? When you swim, sometimes your feet won't be able to touch the bottom, so it will feel like floating. Or flying. But...in water..." Solona felt herself flush, wishing she were better at explaining as she felt a line of sweat run down her temple. The mage had then sat down and once more submerged her feet in the soothing water, smiling.

Cole had meandered towards her, kneeling to carefully move the offering bowl and set it down at a distance. He had then sat next to her, and put his feet in the water. Solona smiled, and then twitched slightly at what she saw, "...Um...I guess I should have told you to take your boots off..."

"Oh. Sorry." Cole murmured, rising his knees so that his feet rested upon the dock's edge, water spilling on the wood, "I'm not very good at this."

"No, it's alright. It was my fault." Solona cleared her throat as she leaned closer towards him, fingers undoing the buckles of a boot as the young man worked on the other. She did not know why, but she found her face heating up, boiling like a fire was raging under her skin. She felt like the boy was perhaps judging her, and in her growing nervousness had fumbled clumsily with the boot. It didn't help that he had already taken his off and was waiting for her.

"Th...These buckles are...tricky..." Solona babbled, knowing she should keep quiet, shut her mouth, but the words spilled forth in a jumble of mindless blabber, "Do you have trouble with them? I mean...of course you don't. You always take them on and off and on and off. Unless you have trouble with them...In which they are tricky...the...buckles..." She had felt like the heat was burning her face almost painfully, heart hammering as she began to sweat. By this point her fingers were shaking in nervousness and fumbling even worse with the simple task.

"Do you need help? I can help." Cole offered, the mage's throat going dry as she tried to speak, to protest, but couldn't find her voice as his fingers reached around his knee and lightly brushed against her own clumsy fingers as he worked on the straps. His boot was off rather swiftly, his fingers far nimbler than hers when appointed with a task. Her fingers were still shaking. If Cole mentioned something, she didn't hear. She didn't look at him.

The boy had now placed his naked feet into the water, Solona staring off into nothing, perhaps at the petals on the surface, now farther away.

"I wonder how far down it goes? Can my feet touch the bottom if I stand?" Cole questioned aloud, curiosity taking hold as his toes wiggled in the waters below, gentle waves sloshing at the docks.

"I don't think so. That's how people drown." Solona commented, legs lightly kicking back and forth, "I'm going in."

"In?" The boy questioned, concern in his voice.

"The water, silly goose." The young woman replied, thinking that maybe she should shed some clothing, but then thought against it, face heating at the thought. She didn't want to embarrass herself, expose herself.

"I...am not a goose." The blonde stated slowly, as if confused. Cole had watched Solona from her perch, arms bracing to push herself into the depths below. He felt his chest clench with paranoia and fear. What if something happened and she went under, down, down into the liquid abyss? What if she jumped in and never came back up? He wouldn't be able to help her. How could he help her if he didn't even know how to swim? Saving her from trying to fly was one thing, but saving her from water when he couldn't swim was another.

Solona had readied herself to fall into the lake, but yelped as she felt strong arms wrap around her stomach and pull her further upon the dock, the mage's limbs flailing uselessly against the stronger force. Solona found herself smooshed against Cole's form, and try as she might, she couldn't break his grip, "Ahh! Cole! What are you doing?!" Solona cried, wiggling in vain.

"Saving you from the water. I can't save your from the water if I can't swim." Cole replied, as if his answer were that simple.

"T...That's why I have to teach you...by swimming!" She tried to slip his grip, wiggling farther down, but his hold help fast, "Fine! Fine! You saved me from the water! You saved me! I won't jump in alone, okay? Let's...Let's do it together, okay, Cole?"

"By jumping in?"

"No. By the shore. Now can you not crush me? Please?" Solona begged, sighing in relief as she felt his hold die, arms releasing her, "Thank you."

Cole frowned, watching Solona rise, "I am sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about it, okay? Come on, now. I want to teach you while we still have daylight." Solona smiled, trying to avoid getting splinters in her feet as Cole slowly rose and followed.

"What is wrong with nightlight?" The boy questioned, the pair reaching the the cool grass and soon wet earth, the water sloshing lazily at the sediment.

"I can't see at night. And everything looks different when the sun goes down." The mage replied, holding out her hand for him to take, and upon holding his hand, realized how disgustingly sweaty hers was. And how tiny her hands were compared to his large, calloused hands. But if he felt the sweat, he didn't voice it.

The woman smiled as she gently led him deeper into the water, step by step sinking them further into the wind birthed waves. Cole was fine until the water reached his neck, and it was obvious he was straining to keep his feet against the falling earth. Solona had to swim to keep herself afloat, far too short to reach the depths he could stand. She could hear his breathing increase to an almost hyperventilation level, eyes wide underneath blonde strands.

"It's okay, Cole. I'm here. You're going to have to kick your feet to stay above the water, okay? I'll help you." She cooed, hoping to coax him into the deeper water. Still, she worried if he panicked and sank. She wasn't sure she could hoist him above the water, or drag him to the shore.

"I...I don't want to sink, sink and never reach the bottom." The boy whimpered, on the verge of panicking, Solona putting herself next to him, squeezing his hand.

"You won't sink, Cole, okay? I will help you, okay? If you get scared, tell me and I'll help you. I won't let you sink. We'll just stay right here near the shore, won't go out in the middle, okay?" Solona spoke, Cole nodding slowly, breath hitching in his throat, "O-Okay."

Solona smiled, spitting out water as some ran into her mouth whilst speaking. Cole's feet had failed to touch solid ground, his breath hitching as he began to panic, gaze wild.

"It's okay! Kick, kick your legs! Back and forth, back and forth!" The girl suggested, Cole gripping her shoulder in fear, body pressing against hers, "Ahh! Cole, it's okay! It's okay!"

Solona worried his weight would plunge her into the water, legs working to keep them afloat, arms sloshing in the spritzing waves, his hot breath in short gasps falling on her skin, "It's okay, Cole! Just listen to me. Just keep kicking, kicking, kicking, not too fast, not too slow. Use your arms to help steady yourself, like how I use mine. See?"

Cole's breath slowly began to calm, Solona feeling him fall lax as he remained afloat with her.

"Good! Good! You can do it, you can swim!" The girl cheered, the young man smiling slightly.

"You ready?"

"F...For what?" The boy questioned, Solona smiling. She broke herself from his grip, causing Cole to sink farther into the water, eyes wide once more as his legs kicked and arms flailed. Cole's breath came out in short, swift gasps, skin pale, spitting water from his mouth.

"It's okay, Cole. Look what you're doing! You're swimming, Cole! You're swimming!" Solona beamed, watching the boy stay afloat without aid.

"S...Swimming?"

"Yes, swimming! I knew you could do it!" The girl smiled, laughing.

Slowly, a small smile grew upon Cole's face, a strangled laugh escaping his throat, "Y-Yes! I...I am! I am swimming! I am swimming and not sinking into the blackness!"

"Yay for Cole!" The woman cheered, lightly splashing the boy, causing him to spit water out of his open mouth, "Hey!" It was then the odd boy did something Solona never thought he would do. Cole splashed back.

Solona squealed, high pitched and girlish, nothing short of embarrassing as she splashed back, resulting in a tiny water war, which had subsided as swiftly as it arrived, the pair retreating to the shore.

"Cole, wait. How can you see?" The mage questioned, the young man turning towards her, water to their waists.

"With my eyes." Cole stated, Solona shaking her head, approaching him and gingerly brushing the heavy bangs from his face, "No, silly. With all that hair over your eyes."

It was then she realized she had touched his hair, which was wet yet soft, tickling her fingers. She also realized how blue his eyes were, not hidden by those bangs and that tuff of hair she loved so much. She had to fight not to stare, butterflies in her stomach, "You...You have amazing eyes."

"I have...amazing eyes?" Cole echoed, Solona nodding, looking away.

"Yes. You do. But...umm...my fingers are pruny. Are yours pruny, too?" She questioned, showing the man her fingers to break the awkwardness, which were wrinkly. Cole looked at them in curiosity, his fingers the same as hers.

"Oh, yes. But, thank you, Solona. I was swimming! I swam! And all because of you! Thank you!" He smiled stiffly, waterlogged with dirt and grass sticking to their feet as they returned to the dock for their boots.

Solona smiled, "You are welcome. I'm glad I could help you. It was fun."

Cole nodded, silently agreeing, "Solona...you never answered my question."

A frown graced her lips, the girl turning to him, "What was your question, Cole?"

"Who loves you not?"

Solona cleared her throat, "No one, Cole. No one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and supporting this atrocious series!


	8. Nugs are Friends; not Food.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole likes nugs. Solona sees no reason to not like the bunny pigs, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, random chapter. With a nug! Cheers, my readers! All two of you.

The youths had taken the time to allow their water soaked clothes to dry as much as possible before choosing to return to the local camp just down yonder. Solona smiled, happy that she taught Cole to swim. Or at least to stay afloat and not drown. Maybe she could find a hollowed out log and use that as a lifeboat in case he ever did panic and start to drown. That would be bad. She wondered what drowning felt like.

Whilst walking down the beaten path, Cole's head had snapped off to gaze off the path and into the sparse trees, footfalls slowly pausing in stride. The mage noticed and stopped a few feet ahead, turning around to see where his sight had fallen. When she had looked in the general direction, she had seen nothing. Just trees and a ram grazing lazily.

"Is something wrong, Cole?" Solona questioned, the man's head twitching, as if broken from a trance.

"Something is in pain. There." He had replied, pointing just over a gently sloping hill, the woman following the indication with her eyes.

"Can you lead us to it?" She asked, Cole simply nodding and walking into the wilderness, the girl following. They had walked not a great distance before hearing the soft clicks of a nug, occasional high squeaks of a distress call cutting through the air followed with the cackling of a fennec.

The pair had gotten to the top of the small slope to see a fennec pursuing a wounded nug, flanks bleeding so that the tiny creature could not flee. The nug had backed itself against the hard bark of an oak, the fennec snapping its jowls as it would try to faint an attack and strike when the harmless mammal tried to block. The nug had tried to move it's large head to avoid the fox, though its ears had flopped in the way, which had been clamped upon by the attacking fennec. Shrill cries and angry growls filled the air, the small predator so enraptured in the hunt it did not notice the girl approach in swift and heavy footfalls. Upon feeling the shadow of a possible threat approach, the hunter had swiftly abandoned the struggling nug, the fox cackling and running into the underbrush.

"Oh, the poor thing!" Solona gasped, the nug squirming in panic, clicking and calling, ears torn and legs spouting blood, perhaps still believing the predator was near, yet its eyes were far too weak to tell. The girl frowned, gently petting the hairless bunny pig to try and calm it, and by nature, the docile creature did calm upon realizing the fennec was gone. It did not, however, stop the tiny nug from shaking in fear.

"There, there...you're safe now. No one will hurt you." The young woman cooed gently, though had looked towards Cole, "Will it be alright?"

"The wounds are deep...it hurts. But you help the hurts, big and small. It will not die. All it sees are teeth and pain." The boy replied, the mage frowning.

"Poor little nug...if only I had a cloth to wrap it up and carry it."

"Back to camp?" Cole asked, Solona nodding.

"Yes. I want to help it." She replied, the boy staying quiet for several seconds before nodding to himself, "I can carry it."

Solona had turned towards him, hands still caressing the nug's hide, feminine fingers wet with crimson, "But you will get blood on you." She had raised her hands to show him. The tiny creature had no longer breathed with ragged breaths.

"That's okay. I want to help." Cole replied, slowly approaching and kneeling besides the girl. The nug had shrunk back upon noticing the approach of another, though could not run. Gently did Cole wrap his arms around the wounded creature, which had fallen slack in his arms, clicking softly.

"You saved its life. I'm proud of you." Solona smiled, the young man returning the gesture, if however slightly.

"Yes, we did." Cole replied, the pair walking back towards the warn road, the mage keeping her eyes upon the nug, which had nuzzled into the boy's nape, "I like nugs. Everything is bigger than they, but they are still content, harmless but happy. If they nuzzle your hand, then they are calling you a friend."

"I think that one loves you, then." Solona chuckled slightly, falling quiet in thought, "I shall name him Mr. Floofools."

"Mr. Floofools? A name that was your friend. And then he wasn't."

The blood mage nodded, "Yes. Mr. Floofools was a field mouse I used to play with when I was younger. Then he turned into a demon."

"He was still your friend."

"He was." She smiled, reaching over to pet the nug's head, "Don't worry, Mr. Floofools. You can rest at camp, yes you can!" Solona cooed, Mr. Floofools' ears flopping, torn and bloody.

The pair had walked the downward slope to their camp, the unmistakable outlines of Bull and Herah in the distance, no doubt waiting for the pair. When Cole and Solona approached, Herah's violet eyes looked from Cole, whose shirt was now stained and bloody from holding the injured nug, to Solona, then to rest upon the bunny pig in Cole's arms.

Solona smiled. Herah shook her head, fighting the urge to smack her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Next chapter will be strictly in Cole's point of view, and it will deal with domestic affairs.


	9. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories are often passed by word of mouth. In some instances, no words needs to be explained to tell a tale. The bruises upon her skin do that well enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinted domestic abuse and animal abuse. On the plus side, all in Cole's point of view.

She was with another boy. A Templar Recruit. He was like him-her first Templar, but younger and not red inside. Not red inside with rage and hate and boiling blood. I don't understand. When did Solona go away, far, but not so far?

I thought I stopped her from falling when I pulled her away from the battlements. But now she isn't falling down. She is falling away, cold, distant, too far, too long, too out of reach, can't reach, can't grasp. Letting her fall down would have been easier. Letting her fall away hurts. It hurts, and I don't know how to make her fall back, fall back to me, here, close yet so far.

If I had let her fall down I could have been able to pull her back up. I would have followed, mended her broken body. I could help her, put her on her feet. But now I can't put her on her feet because she is already on her feet. She isn't falling down now, and I can't pull her back up. She is falling away, and I can't pull her near. I hurts. I don't know what to do. If only I could understand...

I wish I knew where my friend was. It would be easier if I knew she was down, not up. But I know she is not down, but up, and somewhere with him. Somewhere she does not want to be and somewhere he wants her to be but not me. And she is scared. She is scared, and he does not care. Does not care if he hurts her and she scared of being hurt, scars opening and wounds bleeding. Again. Never again, she thought, but never again isn't enough to keep the demons at bay.

I missed my friend that showed me how to let the spirits speak with paper and ink.

I missed my friend that showed me the water isn't so scary.

I missed Solona.

And she missed me.

But he would not let her come to me, me, whom she called friend.

He called me strange, strange and odd, a demon, a thing. He does not like me. But that's okay. I don't like him, either. He makes Solona cry. I don't like it when she cries. It hurts me. But it doesn't hurt him. Like the Nightmare, he feeds on her fears and cries.

She doesn't think I'm strange.

I tried to be happy, for her. She was happy at first. Now she is not. I have no reason to pretend to be happy.

We met for the first time in several weeks, and it was wonderful. She was happy. I was happy. I had found my friend, and she was no longer falling away. But I still saw her hurts.

I don't understand why she got angry. I was only trying to help. I would never try and hurt her. But I did, and she cried. He was hurting her, yet she said that it was...her fault? How? How could her getting hurt be her own fault when he was the one hurting her and not herself?

I...I want to help but...I don't understand. I wish I could understand more. I wish I knew how to help, to say the right words, to make her happy.

I don't want Solona to fall away. I want to do more.

* * *

She came to me again, crying. I don't like it when Solona is sad. She said he wanted to hurt her. She said he wanted to hurt her by hurting Mr. Floofools, her friend, my friend, our friend.

I don't understand why he would want to hurt them. Hurting others is wrong, he is wrong. I was wrong, but not anymore.

I don't like him.

I felt angry, wrathful and writhing with hot daggers in the belly.

No one hurts my friends. Certainly not him.

Solona asks if I will do something, say something. Her eyes are hurt, scared and wet with tears. She has stories of pain on her face.

I said no, meant yes.

I go to him-the Templar Recruit-and feel the red inside. Red, but not red. Angry, not hurt or sad. Just rage.

I tell him to stop hurting my friends, hurting her. I feel anger boil in my belly as he laughs, cold like the winter's morning mist. He says he will. He lies. And I don't know how to make him stop.

I told Solona, and now she is angry with me. I don't understand. I was only trying to help. I don't understand how she claims I only made things worse. I was trying to help!

I don't see her again for the next several days. When I see her, she is not the same person as she was before him. He changed the way she lived behind her eyes. She can't walk far without pausing to catch her breath. Her lungs hurt.

I am scared. If helping makes him hurt her more, how can I help her? If I don't help, he will still hurt her. I don't understand. Why don't I understand? Why can't I help right?

I will go to Varric for help. Hopefully Varric knows something. If not, the voices in his head will.

"Well...shit." Varric mutters, scratching his chin in thought. I told him everything. I am sure Varric will help.

"I...I try to help, but it just makes things worse! How can I help when helping is wrong, but not wrong?" I ask, scared and worried. I hear Varric sigh.

"Listen, Kid...these types of things are, well, complicated. In truth, you can't do much to help Slinky. She has to help herself. The best you can do is be there for her."

"But...but how can I help her without hurting her?" I don't understand.

Varric pinches the bridge of his nose, "Cole...how do I say this...Solona got herself involved with that Templar, right? Since she got herself in that mess, she has to get herself out. Without your help. She has to be ready to help herself and move on. So long as she isn't, she'll stay with him."

"But she is ready!" I stammer.

I don't understand. She got herself into the hurt...how can she get herself out of it when she wasn't hurting herself? He was hurting her. Why would she want to stay if it meant getting hurt? Why would she do that to herself?

"Did she actually say she wanted to leave him, Kid?"

I pause. I want to say yes, but that would be a lie, not right. It is what I want, but...not what she wants, "...no."

Why?

Varric shook his head, "Just be there for her. That's all you can do. Good luck, Kid."

I frown. I still don't understand.

Several days later I sit with her in the garden. She doesn't use the stairs. They make it hard for her to breathe. She is still bruised, but not on the outside. She is bruised on the inside.

"I'm sorry he hurts you." I say, though it feels tiny, not enough, fading and forgotten. The stone bench is hard and cold while the wind is soft and makes the trees dance.

Solona slowly nods in response, tired and weary, "So am I."

I wanted to help, but I didn't know how. It was harder to hear her.

"I-I want to help...but I don't know how...he'll just hurt you. I don't like it when you hurt."

She is quiet for a long time, "I'm sorry."

I frown. She shouldn't be sorry. She is doing nothing wrong. He is, "You shouldn't be."

I don't look at her. She is so close, yet she is still falling away from me.

"I'm scared." I state, and she looks at me. Truly looks at me, eyes wide and suddenly...not broken.

Her lips quivered, and she looked concerned for me, "Cole? Cole, why are you scared?"

I hesitate, "Because...I am losing my friend. On the battlements, I was scared that you would fall down. But if you fell down, I could follow and pick you back up. But you aren't falling down now. You are falling away. So far away that I can't...I can't grasp you and pull you back in, falling, falling, so far away, out of reach, out of sight. I could follow if you fell down. But you are too far away to follow if you fall away."

Solona frowned, upset. I then felt her hand around mine, soft, tiny and warm. I was scared, at first. Then I wasn't, because she was there. There, and not away, not somewhere else. But there, beside me, in my hand, safe and not hurting.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to fall away from you, Cole."

We sat like that for a long time, not speaking and palms sweating.

I would be there for her until she was ready to face him.

Everything was okay.

I would never hurt her like he would.

* * *

I did what Varric said to do. I waited for her to be ready, to mend, to heal, to move on. She is not ready, and he still hurts her. I wonder if she will ever be ready. I don't understand. By waiting I am not helping her, I am doing nothing, hurting her, hurting me. But if I help, try...I am only helping me, not her. I will try to help, and he will only hurt her more. He is a very angry man. I don't like him.

I don't understand why she would not leave. I would make him stop, but Varric says that will not help. Why not? A dagger is a dagger. She would be flittering, free, floating in bliss, unharmed and unbound. I would be happy, and calm, relaxed, and released, and...no, no, no, no, no, no, not again. Never again.

I cannot forget, because if I forget I won't be me. I become something else, dark and twisted, living to hurt and fear, not living to heal and soothe. Not me, I will not be me, if I forget...if...

I cannot forget. But...that is what I do. I mend the hurting and punish the killers. But he hasn't hurt her, but he hurts her, so he does wrong. But if I kill him to help her and help myself, I will be the killer, be worse, because I forgot and killed while he remembered and only hurt, not killed, not become worse, worse than me.

No. It is wrong. He is wrong. I am wrong. Solona is right, bright and spiraling away.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. Why can't I know how to help right?

I keep waiting for her. The stories on her face change as the days pass. Some go away, some stay, some grow, some swell with words unspoken and others pour and confess of his hurting her. I don't like those stories. The ones Solona makes with ink are much prettier. But she has not drawn in a long time.

I miss my friend. I want him to give her back to me. But he won't, and I almost forget. But I can't forget. Solona doesn't like violence. It scares her. I don't want to scare her, too. I don't want her to be afraid of me. I don't want to be worse than him. I don't want to help myself, but hurt her, too. I am wrong.

She is fretting today, fingers twitching and lips piercing in worry. I know it is him. My belly hurts from the iron hot daggers.

"You are afraid of him, Solona." I state, watch her sniff and twitch. Her nose scrunches. She gets angry with me very easily now.

"I am not afraid of him. I am afraid of what he will do." She spoke, sounding tired, throat full of nails.

"Why, Solona?" I ask. I don't understand. She is confused, too.

"Why what?"

"Why do you not leave the hurt? He hurts you, and what he does is wrong, but you don't leave. Why?" I ask, look upon her. She does not answer for a long time, "You don't deserve that. You do nothing wrong. He does. It isn't your fault."

"It's my fault for being stupid." Solona snorts, tongue tipped with fire, "I'm tired of hurting, I'm tired of feeling ashamed and I'm tired of being foolish. I'm sick of him, but you know why I won't leave?"

I say nothing, and after silence, she answers, "Because I don't want to see him win. And I haven't won yet."

I pause, confused, trying to understand, "It...is a game?"

Solona shakes her head, "No. Well, maybe to him. I am fighting to protect what is mine. He still has Mr. Floofools, and I'm afraid what he has done to him. Mr. Floofools is like...my baby. And he knows it. So that's why he threatens Mr. Floofools, and why I stay. I mean, if he threatens Mr. Floofools, I fight to protect him, but if I can't call his bluff, I have to back down. I know it's so stupid, and I should just leave, but I can't. Mr. Floofools is mine, and he is all I have. He is my pet, my friend, and my child. I don't know what I'll do if he's hurt-or Maker forbid-killed!" She fretted, limbs twitching and gut twisting.

"So...that is why you stay? You stay to protect what you love?"

She nods, "Yes. I know I got myself into this, but if I got Mr. Floofools, I wouldn't have to stay. I don't want to stay."

A bright light, like looking upon the sun but too bright to keep looking. Relaxed, and released, unbound and undone. Solona is ready. She is ready, and I can still help.

I will help by getting back Mr. Floofools, her friend, my friend, our friend. And then, she will be free.

Solona says I am spying. I am not spying, I am watching. It's harder than it was before. He can notice me now. It makes watching to see where he hides Mr. Floofools much harder, keeping my friend hidden and in danger.

I follow him down to the holding cells. I don't like them, dank and dark with silent suffering. It reminds me of the Spire. I watch him move to a small storage area of crates just above the falling stone into the waters below. He pulls out barred cage, and I see Mr. Floofools.

He hurt my friend.

Mr. Floofools is very thin, belly hurting from hunger. Like him. Like the real Cole. He is so cold his whole body is shaking. The wind is very strong here.

He shakes the cage, scares my friend. I shake, shake like my friend trapped and cornered and I feel rage in my belly. No one hurts my friends. I am angry that he hurt Mr. Floofools, neglected him until his belly hurt like knives and abused him with kicks and blades. I am angry he hurt Solona, made the bruises on her face tell their stories when she couldn't, wouldn't, because she was too scared. I was angry that he was trying to hurt them, hurt them so much he didn't care if he killed them. He thought no one cared, just like the real Cole thought no one cared for him. He was wrong. Both were wrong.

He made me forget.

She made me remember.

"Cole! Cole-what are you doing?!"

I blinked, turned towards her, and remembered. I had dropped the dagger onto the floor, the Templar cowering and fleeing. I almost killed him. I almost killed him, would have, but I didn't. I was so angry I forgot. I was not me, not Cole, not helping and caring. I was rage, fear, guilt and shame. But now, I remember. Now, I am me. She made me be me. Solona saved me, and made me remember. I would have been sad later if I had forgotten.

"Cole?" Solona questioned, tone quivering and scared, wary, "Cole, are you alright?" She does not approach.

I look to her, then towards the cage, then to her once more, "He hurt my friend, and I forgot. But now, I remember. Thank you for saving me from myself."

Solona nodded, eyes like the sea looking for her friend, our friend. She is horrified when she sees Mr. Floofools, and has me pick the lock of the cage. Both are happier when reunited, fears quelled and pain soothed. It is good to know that I helped right.

Days have passed, and she does not go back to the Templar. I don't see him, either. I hope he went somewhere far, far away.

Solona is happier, and brighter, and free. She is the same person now, living behind her eyes before he came. The blemishes on her face are fading, their stories told and healing. She draws again, and it is so wonderful. I like the stories she writes with the ink and paper. They are happier, and prettier, and brighter, whimsical and wishing, wanting, pulses under the skin.

She sleeps peacefully at night. The light of the moon is beautiful, silver slivers sliding and spilling, cascading on the bed and her form. She is warm under the quilts, Mr. Floofools sleeping in a handcrafted bed in the corner. His belly does not hurt anymore. She does not hurt anymore. I am happy.

I sit on the chair beside her bed and watch, and care, just like when she was sick. But this time I was not scared. I was not scared of Solona falling away from me anymore. I know now she would never fall away, and what I thought was foolish. Solona isn't the only foolish one.

She would ask me to stay, to watch, to care. She was still afraid of him lurking, watching, waiting, plotting. I made her feel safe. He never did. I did not mind. I liked helping her. I liked Solona.

I watched her for some time, and she began to shudder and whimper. I frowned, and reached to hold her hand. It was warm and sweaty and soft. Small and fragile. I held her hand until her nightmare faded away, but she still sweated, as if she were sick again, but not.

I remembered something, just then as I held her hand.

She gave me a gift. She gave me mittens. Giving a gift...means you care. She cares for me, but I didn't give her a gift. But I care for her, so I should give her a gift. But what?

I'm not very good at giving gifts.

I think, and dwell, and confuse myself.

Solona gave me mittens. Something physical. I...should give something physical back?

I don't understand.

I try to think. I begin to feel scared, panicked and rushed.

I don't know what to give as a gift. Maybe I could ask Varric, or Dorian, or Cassandra, but what if it's too late? What if by the time I give her a gift, I have waited too long, and that shows I don't care when I really do and that hurts her, and makes me not me because I helped wrong in trying to help?

Solona gave me mittens. What if I gave her the mittens back? No, no, no, that wouldn't work.

Mittens are physical, material, showing you care. But...if giving gifts shows you care then...showing care and concern means you don't care? Or don't care enough? I show her caring, and understanding, and compassion and...but I don't have a gift.

I need a gift to show her I care enough. More than just showing kindness or giving her happiness.

I think, and pause. No, I don't think and don't pause, move before thinking and don't think before moving.

I try to be gentle, oh, so gentle as I brush the bangs from her eyes. She does not stir. Not even as I softly caress her brow in a kiss. She tastes like the sea, and smells like maple syrup and dandelions.

I carefully pull away, and feel strange. I rub my mouth, but it feel so strangely different, tingling and like tiny needles were poking them. My hand did not let go of hers. I don't think I could even if I tried. I felt so strange. It was scary, but not.

Solona did not wake.

I held her hand for a long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic abuse is no laughing matter, and almost impossible to get out of. The best you can do is be there for the victim when their voices are ready to be heard. A semi meaningful chapter, I think.


	10. Obsession and Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally these were two separate one shots. I joined them due to similar topics, and as such it has a changes in narrative. Which is generally a big no-no in literature.

She loved that little patch of platinum bang that cascaded down the very center of his brow, lightly crossing his nose and ending in a perfect point. At least to Solona it was perfect. It was the longest in length, strong and glimmering like the gentle rays of the sun.

Indeed, Solona at times felt the urge to caress the little tuff with a finger, twirling and brushing to and fro, like a child lost in a whimsical fantasy. She could see his eyes curiously following her feminine finger as she manipulated him. She could not see him getting mad, or annoyed. She could just see him watching, waiting until she was done. But she would not. It was just a fantasy, something she was too cowardly to do.

Still, she had wondered what Cole's hair felt like. Wondered what it felt like to run her fingers through his hair, pale, clumsy fingers lost in an ocean of gold. However, Solona did not know why she had this urge. She had thought she dreamed of the odd boy taking care of her, the sickness toying with her mind. Now she was not so sure. If Cole had been there, she faintly remembered having her hair being brushed away. But why would the young man in leathers do that? To be nice? He was nice, very nice, she thought. Part of the young woman had wondered if Cole had felt the same way she is now-with the urge to touch and hold. Even if it is just hair. Part of her hoped so. Another part was scared. She didn't want him to know her dark thoughts. So she had been avoiding Cole.

She had heard Dorian mention Cole needed a haircut. Bad. Solona hoped he didn't get a haircut. It would change the Cole she knew-at least physically. What if she didn't recognize him anymore? What if that particular bang didn't grow back and she would never be able to touch it?

Solona sighed, shaking her head. The world was ending, and she was worried about Cole's hair. She cursed herself for being too selfish. She couldn't help it. She loved that little tuff of hair.

* * *

 

Solona and I sat in the garden, underneath a tree with leaves of autumn's wind. She is happier now, much happier. I am happier, too. He isn't there to hurt her anymore.

It is okay. She is okay. I am okay.

I watch her, watch as gentle fingers weave and dance around tiny suns, and interlace them into a sea of black silk. I like watching her put the dandelions in her hair. I like how the dandelions look like little stars, and her hair looks like the night sky, cool and soft.

I wonder if the flowers speak to her, tell her where to put them and when they are safe and secure enough to let go.

They are bright, the dandelions. But not as bright as looking at the sun. It's like...looking at the night sky, but looking down, not up. The little stars rest in her hair, her womb, and float about, flittering and free. The flowers, her hair, and she, the reason.

Solona is pretty.

It is good to hear her laugh, hear the wind whisper sweet nothings across her skin and through her hair. She is happy. I am happy, too. It is a good feeling.

She is smiling, and laughing. Smiling and talking. Talking and laughing.

There is no fear, no worry, no shame or guilt.

It is just me, and her. Her, the reason. Her, the reason the little suns hide in her hair. Her, the reason I am me. Her, the reason why I did not forget. Her, that I am happy to have. Her, that I am glad she is her, Solona.

She had then approached, smiling, bodies nearly touching as she rest on her knees. I watched as she leaned towards me, reason flowing with the smell of dandelions and cinnamon. Her face is red like like Varric's shirt. I don't know why.

She then took my hat away, gentle fingers prying and coaxing, reason flowing away, the smell of flowers and cinnamon gone. I feel naked without my hat.

Solona smiles, and begins to weave flowers along the rim, under the leather strap. All the way around. Is she giving me a gift? Another gift?

Soon she is done, and Solona approached once more. She smells pretty.

I feel her place the hat on my head, and she smiles with shades of crimson, "There. Better."

"Better?"

"Mmmhmmm." Solona smiles and nods. There are four layers between us.

I feel her fingers lightly brush my hair, pet, sooth and twirl. It makes me happy, but it is a happiness that I don't understand.

Then I wonder if she tastes like the sea.

Her other hand finds mine. Hers is hot and sweaty, and I wonder why. She squeezes, and I squeeze back.

She looks at me, and she is confused, just as I am confused, yet she presses forward. Mouth parted, wet and soft her face flushes. I move forward, mimicking her, confused and unthinking without reason-her.

Hot breath on tender skin ticking, crashing like waves against the other, hands clammy and clumsy. I was afraid, yet I was not, yet I was, yet I wanted to see if she tasted like the sea, yet I didn't because the sea of dark, fighting and wrathful, yet beautiful and-

Sneeze.

Her mouth had gone, and I was looking at the night sky with little flowers for stars. Solona sniffed, trying to cover up the mucus in thick globs that hung from her nose, bashful and embarrassed.

She got up, and ran away.

I waited for her to come back.

She never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future chapters will have rather emotionally difficult content. Which I look forward to releasing. Unfortunately, it is roughly five plus chapters away. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and supporting!


	11. Compassion's Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The concept of illness is not natural to a spirit. But for a spirit turned flesh, Cole finds out that no longer applies to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather short chapter. Once more, my apologies.

Solona realized something was wrong. Something was wrong with Cole, but she did not know what, specifically.

The young man had appeared to be in a haze, confused and delirious. Sweat had built upon his brow, eyes tired and tinted red with chapped lips, his voice now a nasally tone.

If Solona had to guess, the Fade-touched boy was sick. Though she was unsure if spirits turned into flesh could become ill. If so, she assumed it was from Cole becoming more human. If that were possible. She wasn't sure with him. His whole existence confused her. Still, it did not stop her from going to Cole's tiny corner in the tavern, hidden and safe.

"Cole? Cole, are you alright?" The young woman asked, brow creasing in worry as she saw the blonde leaning upon the floor. He did not appear to notice her for several seconds, head down and breath rasping.

The blood mage frowned, stride swift in concern as she knelt down before the youth in worn leathers, fingers gently raising his chin in an attempt to gain his attention, "Cole?"

"S...Solona?" Cole questioned, voice congested and strained, "I...can't...I don't know-"

"Shhhh. I'm here." Solona cooed, hand slipping underneath his hair to rest upon his brow, hot upon her fingers and slick with perspiration. His normally pale skin was flushed with the fever he no doubt had, "How do you feel?"

"I feel...I don't...know. I feel strange." The young man forced out, a horrid coughing fit suddenly wracking his body, phlegm loosening. Solona noticed that despite the heat coming off of his body, Cole was shaking from the cold. She frowned.

"You're sick. You'll get better faster if you let me help you. I'll be back, okay? I promise." Solona spoke, rising to her feet and leaving the tavern. After several minutes she had returned with a blanket, clean cloth, a bucket of water, and a filled mug. She was proud of herself for not spilling everything. Especially the objects containing the water.

Once arriving towards Cole, she had carefully placed down her burdens, unfurling the quilt and covering the young man. She had made sure he was well covered, ignoring the coughing fit that had once more wracked his body.

Smiling gently, she had then sat beside him, feminine hand grabbing the cloth and wetting it in the water. Solona carefully brushed away his hair before dabbing his heated brow with cold water, gingerly running along his temples and nose. She paused to dampen the cloth, cleaning his cheeks and chin, water dripping down his neck mixed in sweat.

Cole's eyes lazily looked upon her, clouded and unfocused with illness, "Y...You'll get sick...too. My fault..."

"Shhhhh." Solona cooed, setting the wet cloth upon the rim of the bucket, fingers caressing his hair. The blood mage then reached for the mug filled with water, "Here. This will help with the cough."

The boy hazily looked upon the container, though made no effort to drink. Solona frowned, gently putting the rim to his lips. He would not drink. The mage then began to wonder if he even could ingest fluids. She never saw him eat or drink.

"Cole...please. This will help." She coaxed, lightly tilting the rim towards him, allowing the water to lap at his lips. He would not drink. Until he attempted, coughing and fluid spilling down his chin.

The woman frowned, pulling the mug back and setting it upon the floor. She then grabbed the cloth and gently wiped the water from his chin and neck before setting the rag down once more.

Cole merely sat there, sweating yet shivering despite the quilt. Solona frowned, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer to her, his head leaning against her shoulder. She wanted to keep him warm, but wanted to keep him clean and from sweating. She wasn't sure what she should properly do to make him more comfortable. He felt far too warm against her, even with the blanket.

"Thank you." The blonde murmured, hoarse voice a mere slur as he leaned more heavily upon her.

Solona smiled, happy to help. She did not mind staying here with him. She just hoped she was helping him like he was always helping her.

The woman then noticed the odd blonde appeared to be in a torpor, eyes closed and breathing restful. She was not sure if spirits turned flesh could sleep, or if he was just resting his eyes, but she hoped he would get better soon. She just wanted him to be okay, and safe.

"No. Thank you." Solona whispered, gingerly kissing his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and supporting!


	12. Past and Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back on the past and becoming lost in it can blind someone to what will be, just as looking ahead to the future will make one blind to what they have until it is no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather short chapter. My apologies. Thank you to everyone who has left kudos, bookmarks, subscribed or silently read!

"You know what? I always wondered what Qunari babies looked like." Solona spoke, voice slow and thoughtful as the young woman nibbled upon a doughy cookie with a gooey center. She nipped at the pastry with her front teeth, slowly chiseling the treat as if a beaver gnawing upon a tree. Crumbs and filling had stuck to the very corners of her mouth, though the girl paid no heed as she grabbed another with her flour caked fingers.

"Qunari babies?" Cole questioned, watching Solona, the kitchen table caked with sugar and flour along with an occasional clump of dough. The heat of the kiln was dying, and numerous pastries upon pastries lay upon a metal platter.

"Yeah...Quna-na be-bies." The blood mage tried to speak with a mouth full of cookie, pausing to swallow, "I mean...I see Iron Bull and Herah together all the time. And sometimes I try to picture them as babies. Like...that must hurt-with their horns. Herah told me she has a baby-a daughter-I think, but the Qunari took her baby away from her at birth, and she never saw her again. That sounds very sad. It reminds me of how Templars come to take mages away from their families. But I just think...I don't know. Now Herah is away from the other Qunari and the Qun. Maybe if she wanted, she could have a baby with Iron Bull, and things would turn out like how she and her daughter were supposed to be?"

The odd boy frowned slightly, ignoring the sweet scent of cinnamon, "I'm sorry you still miss them."

Solona paused, looking towards him, tongue swiveling about to collect the crumbs upon her lips, "What?...My parents? Oh, it's okay. I just think of what might have been, could have been. I don't remember much of them, but I like to think they would be happy for me. Well, what I'm trying to do. I made a lot of stupid, dumb mistakes. I'm trying to do right with them." A smile steadily grew upon her face, canines clumped with dough showing as she laughed.

"I mean...it's stupid, really. All of it. 'Cause when I was little, I remember thinking I was good for something, or going to be someone important and special. But not like Herald special, important. Like fairy tale special, important. Like everything would always turn out okay, and go good. And I would meet a prince in the Free Marches, and we would fall in love and get married-on a unicorn-and I would be a princess, have babies, and live happy for the rest of my life. It's funny, now, looking back. I think that's what every little girl wants to happen when she grows up, but then finds out it can't happen. Like...maybe that's what Herah's daughter thought, once. And now her dreams of a happily ever after are just...POOF! Gone."

"But you can still be happy, Solona. You can still be happy, if you try." The blonde spoke, Solona reaching for another cookie, nodding.

"Oh, I am happy, don't worry. I just think about what will happen, after all this, I mean. Or if we'll live. I mean, Herah is like an ox shaped battering ram. She can survive anything. And even if we do survive against Corypheus, she has more of a reason to just...be, I think. She had Iron Bull, and can start a new life, with a new family. She isn't bound by the Qun anymore. She isn't marked. But I'll still be marked as an Apostate-or a Blood Mage. The Chantry won't be weak forever. It will come back, and any death sentences it carries with it. Maybe Herah and Iron Bull can get married? I mean...I don't know if people who aren't Andrastian can get married...but that would be nice. I think that would be very nice. Something to look forward to." She smiled slightly, Cole not taking his eyes off of her, "...What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No. You just seem...sad. Why? Why do you make yourself sad?" Cole questioned, head cocking as Solona's nose scrunched.

"Why? Because I am done with stupid fantasies. No man in his right mind would marry a mage-a blood mage-or Maker forbid even fall in love with one. The Chantry would never allow it. And even if we stop Corypheus and survive, the Circle will return, and I will be hunted once more. That is why I am make myself sad-because I think of the future now more than ever, and see how bleak it is. Just as the Chant of Light says-even Blood Mages shall get no rest once death claims them. But it's okay." Solona paused, smiling once more, "I may be thinking of the future, or the past and wondering what could have been, but it's okay."

The young man looked upon her, perplexed, "Why is it okay, Solona?"

She laughed slightly, stuffing another cookie into her mouth, "Be-cus...I wouldn't have met you." The girl paused to chew, then swallow.

"You know, I used to be scared of what would happen, if all the rifts were sealed and the Veil better. I was afraid you would just...disappear, and I wouldn't even remember you. But it's okay, now. Because you're still here, with me, and real. I'm glad I won't forget you." Solona smiled, the boy faintly returning the gesture. The mage's eyes then fell upon a cookie near him, the girl pointing with a slim finger.

"You gonna eat that?"

Cole shook his head.

Solona snatched the pastry, and inhaled it like her life depended on it.


	13. Simple and Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At times, simple actions and words echo more loudly than the clashing of steel. Large actions can be hollow, and empty, their call brash but body void. Sometimes the little things are the largest gifts of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of little one shots tied together. If you see any errors, let me know, since I never seem to get them all. This chapter is rather light hearted, since the next chapter will be far from warm and fuzzy. Please, enjoy if you will. Thank you for reading and supporting!

Sometimes, when the nights were warm and winds gentle, Solona would find herself spending the night in the barn, nestled in the hay that was both rough yet soft. The blood mage would sit with her materials for knitting, and work until sleep would beckon her. She had been working on a project for several weeks, and was constantly terrified Cassandra would find out and stab her little dolls, just like she stabbed maps.

Indeed, Solona had spent the nights making a little stuffed nug-meant to be her beloved Mr. Floofools-torn ears and all. She had been attempting on making mini stuffed dolls of all the Inner Circle Members. So far, she had only finished her pet nug, and Cole's. She figured she would start with the ones she knew best, then take her time to study the features of other members more carefully to finish the others. Like Herah's constantly present bitch face. She would need to make her doll look just right. And Vivienne's. And Dorian's.

Solona set the stuffed nug down and picked up the doll of the strange boy. She had used thin pieces of straw for his hair with buttoned eyes, patches of brown wool sheets serving as his clothing, which were threaded together. He was almost done. All she needed was his little hat. Which in truth, the girl wasn't sure how to make. She would have to think on that.

She looked at the doll, studying it before yawning. Maybe she could hold off finishing until some other night? That sounded nice.

Feeling sleep tug at her eyes, Solona settled into the hay and closed her eyes, arms still clutched around the stuffed toy.

* * *

 

Solona once more approached the dark corner high up in Skyhold's tavern. She knew the odd boy in leather clothes would be there, just like last time. He was always there in the dim light, song and laughter floating up towards the third floor that was only occupied by a single soul. Now, however, it was occupied by not one, but two.

"I see that you are better. I'm happy." The blood mage smiled upon seeing Compassion, fever long gone and once more strong. Cole looked upon the woman through platinum falls, hat nodding in response upon his head, "Yes, I am. Thank you for taking care of me. I was scared. That has never happened to me before."

Solona smiled sullenly, "Well, you are better now. I didn't think spirits could get sick...but I guess you aren't a spirit anymore now, are you?"

"No. I am real. Realer." The blonde replied, the young woman chuckled softly.

"That you are. Oh, speaking of real, I made someone for you!" The girl spoke, voice high with mirth and eyes glowing like the little stars that were once in her hair. She swiftly opened up her satchel and produced a tiny, stuffed doll that mimicked the odd boy's image in all its toy glory, "Tada!"

Cole looked upon the doll in mild confusion, gently taking it from her hands. A small smile then broke across his lips, "It is...me. It is me, and I am me. He even has a hat like me, but smaller!"

The young man tried to speak, to say more, but felt a strangeness overwhelming him. Thank you was not enough. Thank you was not a gift. Solona had just given him a gift. He needed to give her one in return. To make the two simple words seem strong enough. Just strong enough.

Solona's foolish smile was still molded upon her features when Cole wrapped his arms around her in a hug. The sudden physical connection had made her heart hammer and face flush, a twinge of fear running through her despite the gentleness. She returned the hug of thanks, calming and smiling once more, beet red. She could smell his scent, but for the life of her couldn't think of any words to describe it. Then she wondered if he ever bathed. Then she tried to get the images out of her head, but they stayed. She thanked the Maker Cole lost some of his abilities...if he didn't...she was sure that he would pick up on her longing, and it would be nothing short of embarrassing. Then she thought of nugs. Nugs made everything better.

"Thank you." Cole spoke softly before pulling away, happy and gift given.

The blood mage cleared her throat, smiling, "You are welcome."

The boy smiled once more, looking down upon his gift, "Solona? How did you make the little hat?"

"The hat? Just sew fabric together in the shape of a hat. But yours was harder." Solona replied, scratching her head. Cole now looked towards her, eyes curious through golden falls, "Can you teach me?"

The girl paused, hand falling down, "Pardon? Teach you..."

"To knit?" Compassion asked, voice unsure.

"Oh...you want to knit? Yes...yes, I can teach you. I can teach you now, if you want."

Cole nodded once, "Yes. Thank you."

"Alright, Cole. First thing first: put the thread through the needle. Sometimes it's hard if the thread is frayed, so you'll just have to straighten it out and then put it through the needle's head, like thi-ow!" Solona hissed, having pricked her finger, now sucking on her pointer to stop the bleeding.

Cole looked upon her, perplexed, "Do I need blood magic to knit?"

Solona ripped her finger from her mouth, waving it to and fro in the air to dry her saliva, head shaking, "No, Cole. You don't need blood magic to knit."

The boy blinked, "But...you are hurt, bleeding."

"Because I pricked myself."

"Should I prick myself?"

"No! Cole-Look, just...just put the needle in the thread, okay? Just keep the pointy end away from your body, alright? Like this, see?" Solona demonstrated how to join needle and thread, "And then once you have the thread through the needle, you want to tie one end around the head so the thread will stay connected. See?"

"I see, but everything is so tiny, fragile." Cole replied, having gotten the thread in, though was having a difficult time tying the thread.

"Do you need help?" Solona asked, the boy nodding. She smiled as her smaller fingers coaxed the thread to wrap around the needle, "That's what makes it harder, sometimes. You have bigger hands. In this case, the tinier your fingers are, the more easier it is to work with smaller things. Here."

Cole saw the blood mage smile as she returned his needle to him, "Your hands must be very fragile then."

"Fragile? Maybe, but tiny, yeah, at least to yours." She replied, taking a sheet of wool, "Alright...let's start simple. You're going to choose a spot on this fabric, and stab it all the way through with the needle to the other side and pull the needle through. You'll repeat the process, but keep switching sides."

The girl paused, doing a quick demonstration of her own, "See? Simple. I want you to make a square on your sheet, okay? Let me know if you need help." Solona then returned to one of her little projects, Cole working on his task, eager to please.

Several minutes had passed before the odd boy had announced his accomplishment, Solona looking to inspect his creation only to see anything but a square. It was like a mindless mass of thread weaving in and out of the sheet of fabric, "Cole...that isn't a square."

"But I did as you asked!"

"It's still not a square! I don't even know what those shapes are, it's like-you know what? It's okay. We'll move on to two sheets, okay? And all you do is stitch them together, like this." She smiled, once more showing the odd boy. It was okay if he didn't understand. Either way, he was learning in his own way.

Solona hummed Once We Were as she worked, letting Cole explore and learn in whatever way his little heart desired.

After a half hour, Solona was just finishing for the day when the blonde announced his masterpiece. The blood mage once more turned towards the spirit turned human, his chest puffed ever so slightly in pride, though her smile slightly fell into chuckles that she tried to hide as she saw what his masterpiece composed of: an unrecognizable mass of sewn together fabric, folding and tied chaotically in almost every direction laying upon his chest.

"Maker's Balls, Cole! Wha...What happened?" She struggled with all her might not to laugh, for the young man was so proud of his accomplishment.

"I did as you said, Solona! Like with the dagger, like with the pen and ink, I put the needle where it needed to go! I did it! I knitted! Isn't it wonderful, Solona?" Cole beamed softly, voice jovial and light.

The girl laughed lightly, "Yes, yes it is wonderful, Cole." She smiled, inspecting the mass of fabric and thread, cutting the needle and tying the line before her brow furrowed in perplexion, "Cole?...Is this sewn onto your shirt?"

The blood mage lightly tugged at the mass, yet dared not tug with full force for fear of ripping it the artwork and upsetting her friend.

"Yes." Cole stated simply, Solona stopping her assault to look at the boy in leathers strangely, "Why?"

"That's where the needle wanted to go. It wanted to go on you, too. But I think that would have been bad."

"Oh?" The mage wasn't sure how to respond to such a comment. She was thinking, however, that maybe Cole should practice drawing. It wasn't as dangerous as swimming, or as finger pricking with knitting...but it did have a pointy writing utensil.

The blond smiled gently, fragile yet happy, "Thank you, Solona. Thank you for teaching me."

The young man then rose from his position on the floor of his little corner, now leaving one soul remaining upon that third floor of Skyhold's tavern.

Cole was so proud, the inhabitants of Skyhold dared not laugh at the youth's normally bizarre antics.

And upon seeing the pride on the young man's face, Varric could not have been more proud.

* * *

Solona smiled as she approached the cluttered room upon the tavern's second floor. She looked upon the doll she held within her hands: red and black fabric with yellow pants, button eyes, yellow hair, a large smile and a little handmade bow made out of string tied to a carved twig. Of course, the blood mage had Cole help her with the tedious work of the tiny bow. Solona herself was too clumsy with a blade. The young woman was sure she would more likely cut her finger or snap the wood in half. Despite the difficulties, here the tiny doll was: Sera and all. Solona just hoped the elf liked it. Half the time, Solona forgot Sera was an elf. She didn't act like Solas at all. And Solona couldn't follow her in a conversation half the time. And was occasionally flirted with. But other than that, Solona liked Sera.

Solona walked into the blonde elf's room, Sera turning from the window upon hearing the mage enter. Both smiled.

"Hey, Herald. Or...is that Inquisitor, now? There were two Heralds...can there be two Inquisitors? Hmmm...we'll have to change something about that, yeah?" Sera spoke in greeting, upper lip forming into a confused sneer as she thought, though as soon as the look of confusion appeared, it was gone, a smile once more upon her lips.

Solona smiled slightly, "Herah is the Inquisitor. I just am...well...me. Herald, or not. I view Herah as the Herald and Inquisitor. She glows green."

"Yeah? You glow red, too. Don't see no one making a big fuss about that as all. it's like 'Oh, two people have the glowly thing, but one glows green and one glows red. Red, equals blood magic: scary! Green equals...things equally scary! Let's have them lead all the rich tits into war and what not to fix the hole in the sky!" Sera exclaimed, hands raising in emphasis. Solona tried to make sense of what the elf was blabbing about.

"Well...yes, that is what we are trying to do. I mean...who wants a giant hole in the sky with demons falling out of it?" Solona questioned, Sera nodding in agreement.

"Yes! I can't shoot a bloody arrow at the sky, now, can I?! Well, I tried. The arrow never came down. Creepy, that!" The woman shuddered at the memory, Solona choosing now to produce the doll to avoid the elf from going on any more rants.

"Here, Sera. I made this for you. I...just...thought it would be nice." The mage held out the doll, Sera taking the gift, observing it.

"What's this? Oh...it's me, yeah? Am I really that flat? I have no tits! I mean...it's nice and all, but no tits!" The blonde exclaimed, Solona feeling her face flush.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's all good, it's just...oh, look! A little bow to shoot little baddies with!" Sera smiled, Solona nodding.

"Cole helped with that." The mage stated, Sera's face falling.

"Creepy? Ewww! I don't know what you see in that thing. He's not right."

"...You just said 'he's'." The blood mage responded, smiling. Sera's face twisted into a snarl.

"Shut it, you!" Sera snarled, face instantly softening into a smile, as if her little outburst never happened, "Thanks, Solona. This is what I like about you. You act like people."

Solona nodded, a constant smile now plastered upon her face as she took her leave.

* * *

 

The young woman could already hear the voice of Iron Bull, the Qunari laughing to Herah and speaking something about red heads. As Solona approached, Bull turned towards her and waved, "Hey, Solona. How's it going? Care for a drink?"

"No thank you, Bull. I'm fine right now." Solona smiled, and was happy Herah was here. She could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, "Oh, before I forget, I have something for you two."

"Really? What?" The male questioned, the Inquisitor raising a brow in curiosity. It took Solona several seconds to pull the mini Qunaris from her satchel, but when she did, she showed them in pride, "Tada!"

"Oh? What do we have here?" Bull asked, taking the doll Solona held out for him, smiling and laughing as he got a good look at it, "Hey! It's actually cute! Did Krem help you with this? Bastard makes little stuffed nugs, or some crap like that."

Solona paused to clear her throat, "Oh, no. I did all this on my own. It was hard to make with your horns."

"Ah, that's alright. You did good. Thanks." The man smiled, taking Herah's doll from the female Qunari's grasp, the doll having a bitchy expression on its face. Bull then proceeded to pound the dolls together in a sexual manner, Herah's bitchy face twisting into an even more unappealing snarl, violet eyes hardening. She then gave a half hearted smack to the back of Iron Bull's head, stealing back her mini her. Solona assumed that was Herah's way of showing her she liked the gift.

"Ow." Bull faked a whine, rubbing his head, "Sorry, Boss. Couldn't resist."

"I guess that scenario is off limits, now?" The mage questioned, the man shrugging.

"Eh, probably not. But...speaking of scenarios...you and Cole?" Bull's voice suddenly fell low, an almost suggestive, teasing manner.

"What about me and Cole?" Solona asked, Iron Bull shrugging, as if not knowing himself.

"Nothing. Just that you two spend a lot of time together. I mean, I can see why. You both are...a bit weird...and have the whole freaky mage and demon thing going on. No offense. I just think you're throwing out signals, and he doesn't know how to interpret them. I think."

"You think?" The blood mage echoed.

"Sure, why not? Cole may be a weird, creepy, squirrely kid, but I can tell. A little."

"A little?"

"Look, my Ben-Hassrath training is meant to be for-I don't know-normal people. Not weird demons that have perving mind abilities." The Qunari male stated, "Look, all I'm saying is...good luck."

"I...oh. I see. Well, thank you, Bull. Now I will have this on my conscience all day..." Solona spoke, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

The man laughed, "No problem, kid."

* * *

Walking into the heat of the day, Solona attempted to whistle. While the young woman could not whistle to save her life, she tried. And as a consequence, failed miserably. The blood mage was hoping to track down Cassandra, and upon approaching the training dummies, not only found the Seeker, but Varric. Solona found that odd. They were almost always argueing, teasing. She thought they would make a good couple. Maybe Cassandra just didn't like short men?

When the woman approached them, she raised her hand, producing a somewhat lazy wave, "Cassandra! Varric!"

The dwarf turned towards the human, a smug smile upon his lips, "Hey, Slinky. You're just in time! I was about to inform our Seeker here that I was thinking of starting up a new romance novel. You know, since Swords and Shields is over and done with...and Cassandra can't live without sappy romance novels..."

"Quiet, Dwarf." Cassandra snarled, jaw clenching and eyes hardening in annoyance. Varric merely chuckled at the woman's response.

"Speaking of Swords and Shields, I have your copy of the first book, Cassandra. You can have it back." Solona was reminded, reaching into her satchel and producing the aforementioned book, the Seeker's eyes lighting up and growing wide like a child's.

"What did you think of it? Did you enjoy it?" The scarred woman prodded, Solona clearing her throat and hesitating, "Well...I didn't like it. I couldn't follow the plot."

"You...you didn't like it?" Cassandra echoed, mouth agape in shock, "But...but it is..."

"I couldn't follow the plot..." The young woman scratched the back of her head, "Sorry, Varric."

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders, "Eh, everyone's a critic. Shame too. Our Seeker was hoping to form a club!"

"Dwarf..." The dark haired woman hissed, jaw once more clenching.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I only read the sex scenes." Solona piped up, Varric suddenly bursting out in laughter. Cassandra's jaw became lax, mouth agape before raking her fingers across the bridge of her nose, shaking her head.

"Solona...that is not how you read a book."

"Relax, Seeker! Oh, shit, that's rich! I can't even be mad at Slinky for that excuse. So, you only read the romance scenes? What did you think about them?" Varric recovered, questioning the girl.

"Mmmm, I thought they were a bit too cliche at some parts. Otherwise, they were fine. Better than the reading material at the Ferelden Circle." The blood mage laughed lightly.

"Everyone's a critic." Varric shook his head, though a smile appeared upon his lips, "So, do you want to talk about something else, or did you just come here to tell me how crappy Swords and Shields really is?"

"Actually, I do have something. I have doll versions of you!" The girl beamed, Cassandra raising a brow, Varric cocking his head.

"Uh oh. Will this be the creepy doll version?" The dwarf asked, Solona shaking her head as she once more reached into her satchel, and held out each respective doll to its counterpart.

"Oh, my...it is...I admit, I do not know what to say..." The woman spoke, looking upon her doll version, "It is...it is wonderful. Thank you for the gift." Cassandra settled upon speaking, smiling gingerly upon the young maleficarum.

"Heh. I think it's pretty good. You got a gift, Slinky. You gave it all my good looks-even the chest hair." Varric chuckled, "Looks like you forgot Bianca, though."

"Yes...sorry. I didn't know how to make Bianca." Solona replied, frowning slightly.

"Hey, don't sweat it. I appreciate the gift. It's cute. Really. Say...ever think of making a business out of these things? I have a cousin that would really love to invest in this kind of thing." The man pondered, rubbing the blonde stubble upon his chin in thought.

"Is this a real cousin, or another made up one?" The mage questioned, Varric putting a finger to his lips, "Now, now. That's a dangerous question, Slinky. Wouldn't want you to get caught up in the merchant's guild, would we? That's some cut throat work."

"Varric, enough with your wild tales." Cassandra warned, jaw once more clenched, yet a faint smile was plastered upon her lips.

"Wild tales that you love, Seeker." Varric smirked, winking towards the taller woman.

"Dwarf..."

Solona smiled, and upon seeing her business was done, wished them farewell and went about her day.

* * *

The young mage hummed to herself as she approached the barn. She found it odd that though Blackwall seemed to live in the stables, she never once saw him there at night. Not when she slept in the hay, anyway.

The sound of metal upon wood rung out, and upon closer inspection, Solona noted that the man was working upon a wooden griffin, Blackwall chiseling the wood away to birth a mythical creature. The display caused her to smile, and only when she approached more closely did the older man notice her, stopping in his chiseling and looking upon her, "My lady...this is...is...just something to keep the hands busy."

"I like it. It's cute." Solona inspected it, smiling. The Warden appeared taken aback.

"Cute? Well, never thought I would be called cute by such a...I mean...the griffin, yes, you meant the griffin. Maker's Balls, I must be going deaf." Blackwall cleared his throat, running a hand through his beard, hoping it would hide the flush that was surely upon his cheeks.

Solona cocked her head ever so slightly, "Blackwall? Are you embarrassed? Oh, that's adorable! But the griffin is cute. But so are you, because you are making the griffin. It's like...you're a grumpy old uncle that secretly has a soft side. It's so adorable!" The young woman beamed, smile wide and bright.

"A...I see. An uncle, yes. Well then, this is awkward." Blackwall muttered more to himself, Solona still smiling.

"Blackwall, can I braid your beard one day? Maybe after you actually wash it? Oh, and put little, pink bows in it?" The mage questioned, the older man taking a moment to process her question, shaking his head.

"Uh, what?-No. No, you may not braid my beard. I like it just the way it is, thank you."

"Please?" Solona frowned.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleeeaase?" The mage whined, lower lip jutting out in a slight pout. Blackwall sighed, exhaling deeply.

"Fine. But no pink bows."

"Yay!" Solona cheered, infectious grin once more appearing, "Oh, and I have something to give to you!"

"Oh, really? What is it?" The Warden questioned, arms crossing as he leaned against a beam of the barn. The blood mage motioned for the older man to wait before producing a Grey Warden doll, no doubt Blackwall as a Warden.

"...Is that a doll?" Blackwall asked, taking the gift from her and looking upon it.

"Yes, it is. Of you, though. Not just any doll." The young woman replied, the bearded man inspecting the tiny creation.

"It is...nicely done. Though I do not know what I will do with it, I thank you. It makes me feel like a girl, though. You must sense my girlish enthusiasm...great."

Solona blinked, "You have girlish enthusiasm? With a beard like that?"

"Of course. Many see blood magic as evil. Most of it probably is. But you, you try and do something good with it. That is a noble goal, and something I can support. Thus earning my girlish enthusiasm, beard or no." The Warden spoke, smiling slightly.

"Then I am glad to hear it. If I can ask: Why are you making a wooden griffin?" The black haired girl asked, Blackwall grunting slightly in response.

"A little something for the children, I think. It will be a rocking horse. Griffin. Possibly. For now, it just helps keep my hands busy." The man answered, Solona nodding her head in response.

"I see. You do things, too. I like that. You are a kind man. Very kind." She smiled gently in return.

"And you are a kind and beautiful woman." Blackwall nodded, pausing in his speech to dwell, "Speaking of beauty...you and Cole?"

"Again? How do people know these things?!" Solona cried, flabbergasted.

The Warden sighed, shaking his head, "It isn't hard when you two sit in the middle of the garden. Or the battlements. Or the tavern. Or the barn. Besides...people talk. You should be used to that by now." The man pointed out almost flatly.

"Where are you getting at?" The blood mage pried, Blackwall sighing.

"All I am saying is...be carefull. Cole may seem harmless, but so did that Templar."

The woman's blue eyes narrowed upon the older man, face flushing, "Don't speak about Cole like he is a snake in the grass. He is nothing like that damned Templar." She spat, rage alighting her cheeks.

"Cole is a demon. Human or no, that is his nature. I am not saying he is as bad as that man, all I am saying is that you should be careful. I do not want to see you hurt again. That is all, my lady." Blackwall replied, fidgeting slightly. Never before had he seen the young woman so enraged.

"Yet you did nothing to help. He did." Solona hissed, tongue flickering like a serpent's before taking her leave, arteries pulsing with wrath.

* * *

Solona was never sure what all the symbols in Solas' chamber specifically represented. She knew they were of the Elven Gods and most likely Arlathan, but that was the extent of her knowledge. She would have to ask Solas one day. Just not today. She was tired of tracking down everyone. They were done one seconds and back the next. At least with Solas, he was almost always bound to be within his round, elfy room.

Walking inside the oddly painted chamber, the blood mage found Solas immersing himself in some odd shards found via an ocularum. Upon hearing the girl approach, the elven mage rose to greet her, nodding slightly, "Solona. How do you do?"

"I'm fine, Solas. And you?"

"Excelent. Besides the fact we have yet to use the Well of Sorrows to our advantage." The man replied, head shaking slightly.

"Perhaps Herah is waiting Corypheus to make his move and kill us all?" Solona suggested, the elf shrugging his shoulders.

"At least then we would not have to look for the Orb. With our luck, Corypheus would bring it here."

"And destroy Skyhold and everything we hold dear."

Solas chuckled slightly, "Such pessimism. And here I thought you were an optimist."

"Only when I need to be. Like now." The blood mage grinned, once more reaching into her satchel and producing a mini Solas, as bald as ever, and handed it to the man, "There! Solas Junior!"

Solas' eyes narrowed in curiosity, taking the doll from her grasp, "A gift? This is most unexpected, I shall admit. Not that is it meant to sound unappreciative. By all means, I thank you."

The man then paused, clearing his throat, still studying the handcrafted doll, "Solona, there is a matter that I wish to discuss with you. I believe you will find it most urgent as well."

The woman's eyes widened in curiosity, as well as concern, "What is it, Solas?"

"It is regarding Cole-"

"Really?" Solona blurted, feeling like this is the hundredth conversation regarding the odd man she was having today.

Solas paused, facial features quizzical, "Pardon?"

"I..." The young mage shook her head, "Sorry. Nothing. What about Cole?"

The elf took a second to regain his thoughts, clearing his throat, "I have noticed the amount of time you and he spend with each other. Naturally, I have no concern that you or he will harm the other, but I do express worry over Cole's...purpose."

"His purpose? You mean helping others?" Solona questioned, brow raising.

"Essentially, yes. Cole-as you well know-is a spirit by nature. Now that Cole is more human, he is losing that connection to the Fade-losing his true nature. His true purpose has been perverted, and I worry that Cole will completely lose his way.

"But Cole is no longer a spirit. He is a human now, or as close to one as he can get. He will always be spirit like...kind of. And human like. Kind of. Cole still has traces of the Fade within him. He doesn't have to be a Spirit of Compassion to help others." Solona stated, crossing her arms.

"Spirits of Compassion are rare, and fragile. The world cannot afford to lose another, and it will upset the natural order. Do you not see? Cole is not meant to be human-it is not in his nature. Cole will never be a normal man. He is meant to be a spirit. We are already losing something so special. The world cannot bear the loss of another fine spirit." Solas spoke, voice beginning to rise, the blood mage's face began to flush in rage, tongue wagging behind closed mouth, ready to be released.

"You are a hypocrite, you are!" Solona spat, the elf taken aback, venom immediately spewing from his jaws.

"Oh? What a shock! The backwards blood mage can pronounce a word over two syllables." Solas hissed, arms waving in exaggeration.

"It's true! You are! You once spoke of a world where spirits and mortals can live peacefully-together. You once said that spirits and demons were just like humans-and look at Cole! You knew he was special, you knew he was trapped between worlds, and now look at what he's become. He's a creature from the Fade-and yet he's human-almost human! But you-you want to dehumanize him, erase his personality, destroy what he is. How can a spirit be a person if they cannot grow, learn, teach and love? Maybe that is destroying him as a spirit, whatever is left, but it is making your dreams, your fantasies, your hopes a reality. Without change there cannot be sacrifices. Maybe this is one. Leave Cole be, Solas. Let him live his own life. We can only guide him as best we can." The woman spoke, having somewhat calmed throughout the burst of rage, the elf stunned. As try as he might, he could not think of a logical explanation.

"I...you humble me with your words. I admit, I do not know what to say." Solas stammered, Solona breathing deeply, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you, Solas."

"No. Do not be. It was I who had instigated and insulted you. I apologize. I was only attempting to express my concerns."

The woman nodded in response, Solas breathing, shoulders slumping, "I just worry what would become of Cole if you would progress any further. I worry what would be lost, and never reclaimed."

Solona frowned, not sure what to say. With silence reigning, the blood mage took her leave. She had no idea why everyone seemed to think they were together. Or on the verge of being together. Maybe she was just reading it wrong?

* * *

 

Since the girl could not find Dorian, she was forced to seek out Vivienne. This was something she was not looking forward to. Solona and Vivienne did not get along. At all. It was like putting a phoenix and a griffin together in the same cage and watching them kill each other. Except griffins were dead. Long dead. Solona decided about skipping Vivienne all together, but figured that wouldn't be fair. Or nice.

"Well, well...look what comes into my home that looks like it was dragged through mud and a slaughter house? Dear, you really need to spend time on bettering your clothes. In fact...better make that all of you, darling."

"...Hello, to you, too, Vivienne." Solona spoke in mock joy, producing the doll, "Here. Enjoy. Goodbye."

The woman then went to turn and get out as fast as possible, though Vivienne's voice stopped her-if ever briefly.

"What is this? Oh, darling, I would never accept anything from you. You stitching is mediocre and the cloth fabric so cheap and drab! Take it back! I do not want it in my presence. I do not know what is worse: your barbaric dress style or your inability to match colors." Vivienne spoke, and before Solona could protest, found the doll in her possession.

The blood mage sighed. She knew she should have avoided Vivienne.

"Oh, and darling? I hope you would not be one that is so low they would resort to beastiality. Rutting with demons is quite unbecoming!" The Enchanter called, Solona felt her face flush once more, hands twisting the head of the doll as she walked away.

Now she knew what she wanted to do with the doll.

She would use it as a voodoo doll.

And Vivienne would get the most unpleasant itch in her nether region days later.

* * *

Returning to the library, Solona felt relieved that Dorian was the last person who had yet to receive his gift. Vivienne didn't count, though. Vivienne was a bitch.

The blood maged approached the Tevinter, the male mage turning around and smiling, "Hello, Herald. Hear any news of doom and gloom today?"

"No, but I have some doom and gloom for you: a doll!" Solona tried to be cheerful, but all the experiences beforehand simply drained the woman as she produced the doll.

"A doll? What is this now?" Dorian asked, grabbing the mini Dorian, mustache present upon the doll-and the most recognizable characteristic on the craft, "Oh, look at it! It's adorable! Just like you and Cole!"

"Thank you...wait, what?" Solona questioned, knowing she shouldn't be shocked at this point, but she was, "Why don't you people talk about Bull and Herah for once?"

"Oh, we did, but that was months ago. Do you know how ridiculously boring it is when there is no gossip to talk about? Then you and Cole come along and POOF! The excitement begins! You know, Solona...I heard Varric is writing a book on the two of you." Dorian grinned slyly, mustache twitching.

"Really?" The mage asked, wide eyed.

"Yes, really...at least that's what the local gossip says. You know how gossip goes!"

"I...I see. I didn't know that. Well, thank you, Dorian. Now if you excuse me...I need to go and curse Vivienne with her doll." The girl spoke, the Tevinter bursting with laughter.

"Oh, you are so evil!...Mind if I join?"

"Do you have any ideas on how to make her life miserable?" Solona asked innocently.

The man grinned.

"Plenty."

 

 

 

 


	14. Fear and Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once more! Please note that the switching scenes of Corypheus are of a nightmare. Last chapter before The Little Boy series. Fun, fun.

 

_It was a battle of demons and blood, wave after wave crashing upon the other in an endless tide that ceased to break upon the Fade. The Veil, and now the world, was torn asunder. And in flashes of green and red, the world was awaiting its savior to mend the Veil and right what was broken. Or, possibly, its destroyer to hasten the world to its bitter end._

Solona lay in bed with a film of sweat upon her brow, heart racing from a dream yet to come.

_The young woman did not notice the Darkspawn approach from the dust and ash, and had shrieked when a taloned hand had roughly gripped her arm and hoisted her into the air. Solona felt her shoulder scream from the brute force, socket threatening to pop as her feet dangled for ground that simply was not there._

Compassion had sat upon a stool next to the young woman's bedside. He had done this many a night, simply watching her as she slept. At first, it was merely to make Solona feel safe, and protected. Now, however, Cole dared to say he enjoyed these moments of watching the girl when she was most vulnerable. She trusted him. She cared enough to allow him to stay, and he cared enough to guard her from herself. She wanted him to see her naked, yet it was something she feared-even after the Templar.

_"You dare show yourself, demon? I shall banish your soul to the darkest part of the Fade!" Corypheus bellowed, air once more thickening. At that statement, Solona knew who was with her, facing death with her. It made her heart almost stop._

The young man frowned upon seeing the sleeping girl sweat and fret, mind and heart racing as one.

_"I am no demon, and you are no god!" The boy shot back, tone harsh and threatening. One dagger lost, one left. Perspiration had stained his brow, blood mixing with sweat and running down his chin._

Solona's breathing had become gasped and ragged, her body intertwined with the bed sheets in a chaotic mass. The odd boy, in concern and compassion, gently used a calloused hand to brush the stray strands of hair from her face, freeing them from being plastered to the film of sweat.

_Iron Bull was on the ground, unmoving, deep lacerations upon his body that were running red with blood, limbs mangled and proud horns broken. His single eye had remained open, unblinking._

The mage's lips had trembled during her slumber, tiny hands shaking and clutching the sheets. The odd boy pried her grip from the comforter, an iron vice made of soft skin and hot sweat now clamped around his own.

_Solona felt weak, shaking. It felt as if the world had become clouded once more, hazy. Like a dream. But this...this was a nightmare. A nightmare that haunted her with Herah's tears, the Qunari woman's hard violet eyes now looking soft and broken. Her face now seemed to have far too many creases for a woman her age to have. She was kneeling, touching, willing her lover to rise. First in orders of denial, then in loud sobs._

Cole held the distressed girl's hand, the other attempting to wipe the sweat from her brow that just would not cease. The sweat would make her hair cling to her brow, the girl tossing and turning to and fro. Cole would gingerly free her hair from the film upon her face, unwavering.

_Cole knelt before the body of his friend, crying softly and body shaking. His hands were clamped together. Solona realize he was biting his own hand, drawing blood. It may have been in self punishment. It may have been to quiet the sobs that were wracking his throat and making his voice hoarse. She did not know._

The odd youth felt the girl's nails dig into his palm, pressing flesh against flesh, hot sweat against a cool hand.

_"See it!" The woman screeched, dagger jerking in a sudden thrust, shredding his clothes and tearing into flesh, hot blood trickling along the blade, on the hilt, on her fingers._

Tears silently began to trickle down the woman's cheeks, their paths illuminated in the moonlight. Cole lightly caressed the trail of tears, cleaning them from her troubled face. No sooner had he touched the mage, Solona awoke, heart pounding and breath caught within her throat, eyes white and wide, lips chapped and trembling, body drenched and fragile.

She had looked upon the odd boy in leathers, looked upon him ever so briefly that she did not realize their hands were interlocked until only after she had pulled him into an embrace. Scared and intimate, Solona drew him to her, fingers running through a golden sea, seeking comfort in his scent as she nestled into his nape, merged with his body. Cole held her, gentle and sincere, her body racked and shaking.

Now, Cole realized, it was Solona that did not want to let go. It was Solona who was terrified of letting him go, afraid she would never have him again. Like the night on the battlements, but backwards.

It was then Cole realized Solona wanted to be naked. Being naked was something she feared ever since the Templar. But that didn't matter anymore. She wanted to be naked, and she wanted him to see her naked-fragile and vulnerable.

The young man had watched as the woman hesitantly pulled away, blue eyes stained and worn, lips lightly parted, yet not a word was made.

Briefly, Cole wondered if Solona tasted like the sea.

Fear snaked into his chest, hands suddenly clumsy and sweaty. Cole did not understand this fear bubbling and threatening to spill over, the need to touch, to feel. He did not understand it. All he understood was the question.

"Cole?" Solona's voice broke through, the young man realizing how close he had gotten towards her, foreheads touching, sweat mixing and hair entangled. If they got any closer, their noses would touch.

However, the look within her eyes made him want to hide in his hat. Her voice quavered, and her eyes shown with fear. He was scaring her. But why? Why did she want to be naked, but fear being naked? No...not fear of being naked...but a fear of him. It made Cole want to vomit. He would never, ever want to make her feel scared. He was not like Him.

"I'm sorry..." Cole apologized, slowly pulling away, hurt within a frown, "I don't want to-" The youth was silenced as a hand gently caressed his face, drawing him towards the mage.

"Don't be sorry, Cole. You have nothing to be sorry about." The woman frowned, which quivered and deepened as she dwelled and thought, "Maker, I just don't want to loose you..."

She caressed and held him, intimate, yet not.

"I'm sorry, Cole. I'm not ready yet." Solona frowned, Cole looking upon her sadly.

"It's okay. I will wait. It's not your fault." The young man spoke, his companion smiling in gratitude.

She wanted to be naked, yet she was scared to. Cole didn't blame her. The Templar hurt her. He would never hurt her like that.

Briefly, Cole wondered if Solona tasted like the sea because the Templar made her bitter on the inside.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	15. The Little Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are memories within every life that are too painful to remember, and are best left forgotten in the darkest corners of the mind. Despite being forgotten and ignored, the wound is still there, lacerated and bleeding. Only once that memory is set free can the wound heal and begin to scar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Let's go through the check list:
> 
> Crappy Romance? Check.
> 
> Annoying OC? Check.
> 
> Tragic Flashback? Check.
> 
> This chapter is mostly the reason for the warning tags. I had fun writing this, since I never got to experiment with these touchy topics before, and Solona is a wonderful character to further explore these topics. Thank you for reading and supporting thus far! I hope you enjoy.

Solona liked when the sky was cerulean and the sun a bright heaven's ray. The blood mage liked the feel of the gentle light upon her skin, warming her as if she were wrapped in a soft blanket. Lukewarm winds heated from the heavens ran invisible fingers through her hair, causing the young woman to wipe the lost strands from her eyes and face. Solona could see so much, sitting high upon the battlements. Everyone appeared like little ants. And for a brief moment, Solona thought about flying, to just float up and up and up into the skies, up into the Breach and possibly beyond the Fade.

However, Solona could only fly within her mind, for the odd boy held her at her belly, grip not too gentle yet not too hard, firm. The young woman had told Cole numerous times that she would not fall. The blonde would not even dare to take that risk, regardless if he trusted her or not. So, the pair sat, Solona sure he could feel her belly-which reminded the girl that she needed to try and wield a sword and not kill herself with it-whilst Cole sat, a warm, lean mass behind her, simply unwilling to let her go. The young woman decided it wasn't that bad. She could certainly be in worse predicaments. Solona herself was surprised by the lack of physical boundaries. But then again, it was Cole, so she didn't mind as much. It also made the youth in leathers content.

"I like your hair. It smells pretty." Compassion spoke, Solona blinking, now pulled away from her thoughts.

"Oh. Thank you, Cole." The woman smiled gently. By now, the mage had simply given up on convincing the young man to loosen his grip. She wanted to relax, to lean into his hold, but couldn't, wouldn't. She had no doubt Cole sensed it, no matter how small.

Minutes passed as silence reigned, only the hussle and bussle from down below drifting in the winds. In time, however, the peaceful silence was broken, "Why are you afraid to be naked?"

"I-pardon?" The woman asked, not expecting such a question.

"That night when you said you were not ready-I scared you. I didn't mean to. But I don't understand. You want to be naked, but you are afraid to be. But...with the Templar, it was different. Like now, but backwards. Why is that? I don't understand." Cole asked, shaking his head to display his confusion. His question made Solona think. The young woman remained quiet for a long time.

"Because...you and I...we have different foundations. That's why the natures of the relationships are different. Wait...what 'naked' do you mean?" She asked, not entirely sure. When she twisted to look at Cole, the boy didn't seem to truly know either.

"Can...it be both?"

Solona sighed, "Alright. I think I know what you're asking now. Take you and me. When I first met you, I thought you were a creepy weirdo that was going to kill everyone. Or possess someone. But as I got to know you, I know you're not _that_ creepy. You're still creepy, but not as bad as I once thought you were. So I know you're a good...man...spirit...demon thing. So, because I know you, I'm naked to you emotionally. And maybe mentally. I'm not sure. But obviously, not physically. With the Templar-and a few others-it was a physical nakedness, but not an emotional or mental nakedness. Like with you and me." The girl tried to explain, Cole remaining quiet as he digested the answer.

"So you are afraid to be naked?"

"...naked as in...?"

"Naked?"

The mage shook her head, "No, I am not afraid to be naked. Take the Templar. I was physically naked, but not emotionally. That relationship was shallow. No emotional connection at all-just physical."

"Are we shallow, Solona?" The young man asked, the woman's cheeks filling up with air before she exhaled.

"No, we aren't shallow. We are deeper, which is good."

"So...being physically naked is bad? Is that it? Is that why you don't want to be naked? Because he hurt you?" Cole pried.

"Being naked isn't a bad thing, Cole. It's just when you enter a baser relationship, you are more prone to using each other regardless if you know it or not. When you are more connected on an emotional level, you...value each other." Solona spoke, feet smacking against the stone walls of the battlements.

"And that is why he hurt you? Because he did not value you?" The blonde asked, the girl nodding in response.

"Yes. If you don't have value, you have a lack of respect. Like I know you wouldn't hurt me. Just as I wouldn't hurt you." The smiled, the odd boy returning the gesture-if however small.

"Thank you. But...I still don't understand. You know I wouldn't hurt you because it's wrong. But you are still scared of me. Of being naked. Why?" Cole questioned, Solona sighing, prying his fingers away to interlace them with her own.

"I'm not scared of you. I'm scared for you. Intimacy is...always scary. And with Corypheus...well..." She shrugged, unsure what to say.

"You lie. You're not scared of intimacy. Or Corypheus. You're...scared of something...something else...but I don't know what..." The odd boy tried to focus, but he himself was far too loud. He could not hear over his own noise.

"Yes. Well..." Solona tried to speak, but her voice simply faltered, unsure what to say.

Silence once more reigned, hands intertwined as the mage now leaned into the strange youth, the smell of cinnamon in her hair and the taste of salt upon his lips.

"The little boy...I'm sorry he died." Cole stated, Solona frowned, nodding silently in agreement.

"Yes. So am I." The blood mage sniffed, breaking their hold as she wiped a stray tear that had not yet fallen.

A frown plastered itself upon the young man's features, hold meant to comfort and soothe, "I'm sorry you lost your son."

* * *

 

"Did I do something wrong?" Cole questioned, voice breaking the peace within Solona's chambers. The boy had been sitting upon the floor, petting the nug whom he had called his friend. The gentle yet sudden tone of the question displayed a hidden urgency that the young woman was quick to pick up, though did not look up from her current project.

"No. You did nothing wrong, Cole." Solona replied, hands brisk and graceful as she worked needle and thread. Mr. Floofools had nuzzled the odd blonde's hand-a symbol of friendship. Cole gingerly scratched behind the nug's torn ears, healed yet scarred from the fennec. Compassion's lips had pierced into a silent frown, fingers now unconsciously rubbing the pink skin of the nug, "But...I frighten you. My questions hurt you, but I don't know how to help you without asking. Should I not ask questions?"

"You can ask whatever you want, Cole. I have no reason to hide anything from you, no matter how much they upset me." The blood mage answered, tongue sticking out in concentration.

Silence had reigned for several minutes, the blonde in stitched leathers wanting to help, yet unsure how, afraid to hurt. Cole had then spoken, voice soft and unsure, hesitant, "You said I can ask questions? No matter how much they hurt you?"

"I said that, didn't it?"

"Yes. But I don't want to hurt you, Solona. And if asking questions hurt you..." The young man trailed off, unsure how to shape words with his tongue.

"Talking about things are good, sometimes. I never talked with anyone about...well..." Solona cocked her head, as if to push the conversation aside, fingers slightly pausing before resuming their work.

"The...little boy?" Cole asked, unsure of his own answer, head snapping towards the woman upon her bed, before returning his attention back to his hairless friend.

The blood mage faltered in her work to rub an eye, if only to delay her voice, "...Yes. My son."

"Can I ask questions? About him?"

"Cole...I said you could ask whatever you wished..." Solona sighed, becoming agitated that their conversation was merely going around in circles.

Compassion faltered in speech, tongue forgetting once more how to mold the syllables into words. The young woman briefly shook her head, slowly beginning to resume her work. That was, however, until the odd boy found his tongue, words twisting into curiosity, "Your son died? When did that happen?"

"When I was but a girl, still within the Ferelden Circle. I was fourteen at the time, or thirteen. Somewhere around there." Solona replied, Cole silent, digesting her words and trying to image the dark haired woman as a little girl. He wasn't sure he could.

"That is...very young. And...he was a Templar?"

"The father? Yes. He was an older man. If I had to guess...mid twenties to early thirties." The young woman tried to recollect the man.

The blonde looked upon the mage, lips piercing into a frown, "What he did was wrong. I'm sorry."

Solona smiled slightly, shaking her head, "You don't have to be sorry. I came to terms with it years ago. I didn't know any better; I was just a child. I thought since he was a Templar, he would know what was best for mages, best for us to live. I didn't see it as wrong, not at the time. I thought he was nice. Now I know what he did was wrong. But it's okay, because it wasn't my fault. I didn't know enough to know what he-we-were doing was wrong. I assume that's why I go after Templars." The blood mage laughed slightly, "Oh, I never learn."

"I think you should stay away from assholes." Cole stated, Solona pausing in her self jest to look upon the leathered boy.

"Someone has a strong opinion, I think. But I agree. That's why if I'm dumb again and with a bad man, you do whatever to stop me, okay?" The maleficar spoke, a breathless chuckle escaping her throat, so gentle and soft it was soundless.

"Like...last time?" The blonde questioned, uncertain.

"Kind of. Hopefully it doesn't get that bad again. But I know you won't let that happen again." She smiled slightly, "Any more questions?"

"Yes, I have another question. Your son, how did he die?" Cole questioned, the dark haired mage now setting down needle and thread as a large sigh released itself from her breast, throat clearing.

The young man frowned, fingers once more gingerly brushing against the nug, "I'm hurting you. I'm sorry."

Solona slowly shook her head, lips pierced and trembling as a dam within her cerulean eyes threatened to break. It was the only defense the mage knew as to not break down into tears, "No, no I...it's fine. I think...I think I need to tell you. The past needs to die. I think...this is how it will be put to rest."

The woman tried to smile through shaking lips, a hand wiping tears that had not yet fallen, gaze falling upon Compassion. And thus, memories once long buried were unlocked.

* * *

She was but a child at the time. A girl no older than fourteen, normally pale face flushed with signs of motherhood, back pained, ankles swollen and belly bloated. A belly far too big for her tiny body, clothing uncomfortable and movements slow and clumsy. Her face was still round and pudgy, a childish feature that would remain until she hit the later stages of puberty, and her child like body would match her internal maturation.

Solona knew very little of motherhood. She still struggled to understand how she had become so large-and was still in awe of how an apparent baby was living-and growing-within her. The girl had worried many a time. She had worried that her belly would continue to grow until she could no longer walk, and she would fall and never be able to get up. She had a fear that getting near pointy objects would cause her belly to burst open like a ripe watermelon, and the other children would laugh and mock her. Many times she had been the neglected child of her peers. They did not understand her predicament. Solona did not understand her current status, either.

The other children did not understand. They thought the shy child was merely making her belly grow on purpose for attention, and stated she should make her belly stop growing. Solona wished she could. But just pushing on her belly wouldn't magically make her large and swollen bump go away. Sometimes when she felt her large belly with her hands, she felt little rumbles and flutters. She didn't know what it was. She just knew it felt like butterflies in her tummy.

Solona had noticed that her friends had now abandoned her. She was too slow to play tag in the hallways, the children laughing in mirth and knocking scrolls and various books out of the hands of the senior mages as they rushed by. She was too big to play hide and seek. Even when the girl thought she found a good hiding spot, she would forget about her extended belly that was too large for a child's body, and have her person awkwardly exposed. Solona also found that her friends did not even want to play a simple game of catch with her-be it paper balls or other toy projectiles. Her arms were too short, weight distributed far too clumsily. Solona still wasn't sure how to bend down without feeling strange within her stomach, or worse, losing her balance and falling.

Others had made a game out of mocking the girl. Some children would attempt to throw things at the girl-naturally aiming for the largest part of her. Others made fun of Solona's awkward waddle, the flushed girl's swollen legs moving almost comically to even allow her to walk.

Others were kinder. Some of her peers had greeted her, but their interactions went little more than that. Many younger children were in awe upon her size, and would curiously approach. One little boy claimed he could see the baby's nose-having mistaken her whole belly as a nose. Others simply stated she was fat, knowing no other words to describe her.

However, it was not like Solona was a full victim herself. She had on several occurrences rammed her bulging belly into unsuspecting children-intentionally or no. Solona was surprised by how far they would fall. Though one time she had remembered accidentally bumping into a little girl she had failed to see, making her fall and cry. It was not her fault the girl was so short and her belly so big that Solona could not see where she was going all the time.

Even some of the adults had looked upon her with mixed feelings-though Solona did not know with what. What she did know was that many of the adults were kinder to her than her former friends. An elderly senior enchanter appeared to have taken a personal oath to watch over the little child and keep her company. The kindly woman was old, wrinkly, smelled of too many medicinal herbs, and drawled on and on and on enough to make Solona fall asleep during their meetings. Not that the old woman noticed. Solona assumed the little, hunch backed lady was both blind and deaf. Solona also did not know which was worse: being a pregnant pariah with no friends, or being a pregnant pariah and having an old lady as her only companion.

Solona found the woman boring, speaking of things the little girl did not care to know, nor fully understand. The dark haired girl just wanted to play, to run, to scream, but she could not. She had no friends to play with, and the old enchanter was in no shape to play. Besides talking and drinking tea with elfroot, the old woman also knitted. To Solona, knitting was just as boring as talking about grown up things or drinking tea.

The kind woman also said Solona could come to her with any questions she had regarding her pregnancy. Solona never asked. She did not know what were the right questions to ask, though she was sure the woman would answer them. She certainly had a lot to talk about. She surely knew a lot about babies. Though Solona stated that the old enchanter could ask her questions as well, the mage never pried. Solona wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say.

For several times a week the pair the would sit, one knitting whilst the other doodled mindless creatures out of boredom. It was during one afternoon that the old mage had looked towards the girl with failing eyes, gentle laughter flicking against Solona's ears like the soft glow of the lit candle, "My, my...and what creatures are you conjuring on that paper?"

Solona jumped slightly, face flushing even worse as she lowered her head towards the paper, embarrassed, "I...I don't know...things."

"You know, Solona, if you wanted, I could help you make some creatures of your own." The mage smiled, wrinkles changing to mold with her dropping flesh. Her words had caused Solona to look up at the woman curiously, "You can?"

"Of course, child. Just draw an outline upon the cloth I use, and I can cut them out and knit them into a stuffed toy."

Solona's blue eyes had now widened in childish curiosity, mind unable to think of anything more to say as the words spilled from her mouth, "You can?"

The old woman laughed, flesh flapping under her chin as she did so, "Is that all you can say? But yes. I may be old, but these old bones can still work then they need to."

At this moment, the child looked to see what the elder mage was working upon, hands constantly moving and working. It was the first time Solona had even bothered to look, "What are you making with those things?"

"This? Oh, it is just bed clothes for when the baby comes."

"Bed clothes...for the baby?"

"Yes, silly child! You do not think babies come out all bundled up in soft cotton and blankets, do you?" The grey haired mage questioned, voice echoing in a laugh. Solona blinked. She never thought of that. She didn't even know what a baby looked like. She never saw one. She didn't entirely understand how and where they came from. She just knew it took a mommy and a daddy. But the Nice Templar was no daddy. And she was no mommy. Solona didn't understand, "I tell you what, Solona, why don't I teach you how to make little stuffed toys of your own? We can work together then-you on your toys, and I on baby clothes. What do you say? Would you like to learn how to knit?"

Solona paused in thought. Knitting sounded so boring...but it was better than sitting there doodling with stick figures. The girl also thought she could make clothing for her baby, which would apparently be butt naked.

"I will. But on one condition." The girl stated, the old woman cocking her head in curiosity, "Can I call you Nana? I think I know what that is, but I never had one before."

The old mage merely smiled, "Of course. You can call me anything you like."

The girl with a belly too large for her smiled, and a bond was formed through stuffed toys and baby clothes.

* * *

Solona had once awoken during the night, pain like a sharp dagger piercing within her swollen abdomen. Torn out of sleep from pain, the child whimpered and cried in fear, tiny hands clutching a tummy that was far too large. When the pain had dulled, Solona had felt something different, wrong. Her bed felt wet.

That was odd. Solona stopped wetting her bed years ago. Unless she peed herself when her belly hurt.

The candle was lit, and through the soft glow the flames, fresh crimson glittered and stained the sheets.

Solona cried for Nana.

Solona didn't understand what was going on. Was she dying? Was she sick? Was she in the Fade? She didn't know. All she knew was that the stabbing returned, sharp and unmerciful. First she was alone, and then there were many people, many faces, many voices. She cried, face now red from fear and tears as the strangers led her away. To where, the little girl did not know. All she knew was that the pain she felt was real, and that she would need a new nightgown. Her current one was soaked with blood. And like that, she was whisked away to a room with strange faces and warm water and cloth.

And in a sea of strangers' faces, she had seen Nana.

"Nana!...N-Nana!...Na-na!" Solona cried through sobs, feeling the dagger stab her belly once more and strangers settle her into a warm bath with shallow water, pushing the hem of her bloody gown onto her belly. Solona didn't understand. She was scared, embarrassed and confused. Why were they doing this to her?

Her tiny hand had reached out towards her friend-her only friend in a sea of strangers' faces, a trail of tears glistening down her round face, swollen fingers desperate to hold. Nana reached out and had grasped the terrified girl's hand, old and fragile bones mixing with younger ones. Blood stained the warm water. Nana tried to smile-if only for her sake.

Solona tried to speak, but the ball in her throat was too large, pain too strong. Beads of sweat had now broken across her brow, tiny hands shaking and sweating.

"W...What's h-h-happening, Nana?...Nana?!" The girl asked, voice uneven and laced with fear, eyes wide like a doe's.

Nana tried to smile. But it looked forced. The wrinkles upon her sandpaper face looked like they were in the wrong spot. She tried to smile. It looked wrong, "The baby, Solona...it's coming."

"T...Th...b..." The black haired girl tried to speak, but only sounds had come out. The ball was too big. She couldn't speak. She had tried to rise, gripped by panic, but the stranglers held her down into the warm waters laden with blood.

"Solona? Solona?" Nana cooed, brittle bones kneeling towards the girl, a bony hand stroking her hair as another dagger pierced her belly, "I need you to be strong. Stronger than you already have been. Can you do that?"

The girl's round face was shadowed with terror, eyes wide and lips unmoving. No words needed to be spoken. Nana saw everything in her eyes.

_Don't let go._

_Nana...please..._

Nana did not let go.

* * *

She was sweating, drenched in sweat, heart pounding out of her chest and breath labored. It was terrible. Like a nightmare that never ended, like a battle she could not win. Nana said it was over. Solona didn't feel like it was over.

The warm bath had now turned cold, water red with blood. It felt like her body was torn in half, sharp pains like knives still within her. Solona barely remembered the strangers talking about the baby being too big, and her pelvis being too small. She thought she heard something-felt something crack-tear, but she wasn't sure. Her whole body hurt, and she just wanted to sleep, and never wake. She barely noticed her grip upon Nana's fingers had cut off the circulation of the older mage's fingers. Solona didn't notice her grip was that strong before.

"You did it, Solona. You did it." Nana smiled, skin worn and tired.

"Ba..by?" Solona questioned, trying to fight off the tiredness of her eyes. She felt that something was off, though did not know what-nor care. All she wanted was to see the baby that once lived inside of her.

The strangers-whom she now realized as Templars and several Senior Mages-were deathly silent. Until the child was given to her, Solona letting go of Nana to try and hold the little boy, whose skin was a hue of light blue.

Solona smiled tiredly at the infant, eyes blue, face marred with a cleft palate and cries as soft as a kitten's.

"Is...this what...babies look like?" The girl asked, looking to Nana in curiosity, eyes alight with renewed energy. The old woman merely smiled sullenly, though it was a smile the little girl did not pick up.

"He needs...a toy. And clothes..." Solona murmured, looking at the infant with a kitten's cry. Part of her wanted to scream, to let the baby know that it was his fault for making her lose all her friends and putting her in this much pain. But a part of her couldn't. She didn't know why, but she just couldn't. It was a part of her. And she was a part of the babe.

The little boy's tiny fingers seemed to be merged together, arms twitching as he cried weakly. And then fell silent.

The girl smiled, shaking hands touching and holding with curiosity, the babe twitching in a sudden hitch of breath, tiny cries resuming.

"There, there...go...go back to sleep..." Solona cooed, hands clumsily running along the new skin.

The kitten's cries had faltered, and silence once reigned from the babe. Only briefly did his breath hitch, lungs filling. Then stillness.

The Templars took the babe away, easily prying him from the girl's grasp.

Solona screamed and cried, though was too pained and weak to rise.

She failed to notice how blue his skin had turned, belly bloated.

* * *

"...And that is how he...died." The young woman cleared her throat, pausing for several seconds to wipe the fallen tears from her eyes, "And I didn't know. I thought he was sleeping, I-I didn't even think he would die...I didn't even think of that. I just keep thinking: When did he die? Did he die after the Templars took him, or in my arms? If I had known, I would have loved him harder. So much harder that he would die cradled in love. But I don't know if he did."

Solona tried to force a smile, though it turned twisted with grief, "He was sick. My boy was sick even before he was born." A heavy sigh escaped the mage, fingers massaging her temples, tearing silently falling.

Cole had remained quiet the entire time, digesting the tale told to him, knuckles trying the wipe the stray tears upon his face. He had moved closer now, towards her, beside her. Close, yet far. The young man remained quiet. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure he would use the right words to make things right, to help, to soothe. But what if there were no right words?

The blood mage slowly looked towards the man, sniffing, "Cole? Are you...crying?"

The strange man remained quiet, tongue enable to find his voice, "It is...very sad. But that isn't enough."

The woman frowned, a hand reaching towards him, fingers gently brushing the dampness from his skin, "Don't cry, Cole. Please." Solona begged softly, the blonde's mouth quivering as the mage gently cupped his face, thumbs lightly caressing his pale flesh.

"Don't cry...Don't cry..." She cooed, Cole shaking his head.

"No. I cry for you. You are still afraid. I won't hurt you, not like the Templar. Or the other one. Or any of the others. I won't hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. But you're still afraid, afraid of me. I don't understand, Solona. Why? What can I do to make you stop being scared of me?" Compassion asked, begged for understanding, an answer, "Who is the other boy? Please. Answer me."

His hands had now intertwined with hers, hot and sweaty as they lowered to their laps.

Solona paused, voice failing before being freed, "He is from my dreams-the Fade. In the Fade, he is my son. And I see you in him. The Fade shows what can be, might be, will be. I see him die in every dream-just like my real son. I will not let that happen again. With no child of mine."

"You...you don't fear me...you fear what might be. You're protecting what might be, by not...by not letting me get close? But then...what might be won't exist. You're afraid of hurting others, not yourself." Cole replied, slow, trying to understand.

"If what I see can be real...I would rather not...not have another child. If what I see can be real, then preventing it will be...much easier." Solona replied, sighing.

"I don't need protecting. And neither do you. Sometimes people get sick and die. Sometimes people get hurt and die. It is sad, but things happen...that is...how things work." The blonde spoke, trying to explain. The mage said nothing, remaining quiet.

"Is...that what you want?" Cole questioned, the woman blinking, "No."

"Oh. Can I ask what it is?"

"...Can I kiss you?" Solona asked after a pause, confused and unsure of her own question. It was something so simple, but why did it feel like it was so much?

The young man stared, as if confused for several seconds, "I...yes? Can I kiss back?"

"If you wish." The blood mage chuckled lightly, a breathless laugh ringing out as she tilted her head, lips slightly parted. Cole was confused, palms sweaty and shaking as he held her hands, and in an attempt to mimic her, had accidentally poked Solona in her eye.

"Ow! I think your nose gorged out my eye!" The woman whined, removing a sweaty hand from the mass to rub her eye, Cole paling.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-I-"

"It's okay. Let's try again." Solona smiled through her wound.

"I'm sorry. I'm...scared...and..."

"I am too. Don't worry about it. Everyone gets like that." The mage smiled, once more moving towards the odd boy, tender lips pressing against chapped ones.

Cole no longer wondered if she tasted like the sea.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering what the child had--Trisomy 18--Edwards Syndrome. A truly tragic condition.


	16. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having boundaries is yet another concept Cole must learn, no matter how much the desire to help or curiosity overtakes him. Going through women's personal belongings is never a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is a far more light hearted, comical chapter. Have fun.

* * *

She was fretting again. Fretting and mind racing, moving to and fro as she tore apart the room. Solona was looking for something. I didn't know what. Neither did Mr. Floofools.

She didn't notice me.

I knocked, but she didn't notice. Sometimes I forgot to knock. I still wasn't used to people seeing me. Sometimes I forgot that they could. Solona didn't like it when I forgot. I learned it was safer to knock.

"What are you doing?" I asked, slowly, cautiously, wondering if I said it right-the words. Sometimes I still said them wrong. It was hard, using the words the right way, but I was trying-learning.

Solona looked at me, then back at a wooden box, then back at me. It was like she was trying to focus on two things...but just couldn't. I knew the feeling. It was like...dancing. Or kissing. I wasn't very good at kissing. Kissing was hard. You have to move your mouth, like when you speak, but differently. Like a dance with your lips and tongue. I still didn't fully understand, and it still scared me. Solona said I wouldn't always feel scared. She said one day I would feel relaxed, unbound and flittering free, feeling right. I'm not sure that I will never feel like that, but I can try.

"I thought I told you to knock?" Solona asked, then turned back to her wooden box, dark oak whispering memories whenever it was brought to hold, to keep secret. But I couldn't hear the part of the oak that remembered too well. It was sad, but I could not understand it. I was too loud.

"I did. You didn't hear."

Solona shook her head, shifting through the things in the oak chest, the part that was once a tree remembering. Like with Sera's bow.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for that stuffed toy and baby clothes I told you about. I swear, I've turned this damned room upside down and I still can't find them...but I don't ever remember throwing them away..." She paused, delicate finger tapping against her chin in thought, like a little dance without music.

"I can help." I offered.

Solona didn't hear me.

I didn't know where to look. There were many places those things could hide. Maybe Solona couldn't find them because they did not want to be found?

I looked, and had opened a dresser drawer. Sometimes things were hard to find. Sometimes it was easier. I don't know what I found. It was tiny, and was made of silk or cotton, soft and comfortable like a blanket. But there were many of these in her dresser drawer. They were very odd.

I picked one up and pulled it out, the fabric warm and soft. It had three opening, one big, two smaller. I didn't know what it was, but it looked pretty. I wondered why Solona didn't wear these things, but I didn't know how she would wear them.

I tried to imagine.

I couldn't.

I tried to ask Solona, but she didn't hear me.

Solona was too loud herself, bumbling through her other belongings.

I looked back at the thing again before me. It looked like it was made of something someone would wear. But how would they wear it? I never saw someone wear something like this before. I tried to understand the pretty fabric.

I could not.

I looked at the bigger opening, and saw it had little bands that allowed it to stretch. I think that was where the body would go, like someone putting it on their head. But then...what of the other, littler holes?

My hands went through the bigger opening, and the pretty fabric stretched. I didn't understand how someone could put this on their head. My hat didn't help. It was too big.

Setting my hat down on the dresser, I tried putting my head through the larger hole, but became confused. The fabric smelled pretty, but I didn't know why. Then I thought my head was supposed to go through one of the smaller holes, and my arm in the other.

Confused, though curious, I tried to get my head through. It was harder than I thought. The lace and cotton didn't stretch as easily as it did before, and when my head got through...I felt...different. Lighter, but not. Like the Fade was swirling around me, thick and heavy with magic.

When I looked in the mirror, I saw that my hair was standing up. I didn't know I could do that.

I think tried to get my arm through the other little hole, but it was hard. The silk would not stretch, and when I managed to get my arm though, I heard a tear. I froze. I was afraid I broke it.

Then I realized I was stuck. I could not get the odd thing off, and the more I tried, the more tears I heard.

Solona then turned towards the noise, and when she saw me, her face flushed with embarrassment and rage, words hot like a dragons' fire, "Cole! What the fuck are you doing with my underwear!?"

Her voice shook the room, her hurried steps angry and heavy. I tried to explain, but she was already there, here, and trying to rip her...underwear?...from my body. Her grip was strong, teeth clenched like Cassandra going off to war, "Bend over...and stop moving! You're going to ruin it!"

I was confused, and didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I made Solona mad. I didn't like it. I didn't know it was underwear. I didn't even know what that meant.

The bands hurt and dug into my skin, biting and causing rashes. But it was only for a little. Soon I was free, unbound.

But Solona was angry, face red and veins pulsing.

"Get out." She hissed through clenched teeth. I tried to say I was sorry. She wouldn't listen.

"Go on! Shoo! Shoo, boy, shoo!" She swatted at me, and I was out the door.

I tried to say sorry once more.

She slammed the door.

I stayed away from Solona for a long time. I didn't know she liked underwear that much. I didn't mean to make her angry.

Maybe I could give her underwear as a gift?

Yes, I could do that. Then she will be happy.

I finally thought of a gift to give her. Isn't that wonderful? She will be so happy, very happy.

I found an underwear, and hid it in my hat. I found Solona by the grounds outside the tavern, making a tiny fire. I saw that she had the stuffed toy and clothes she was looking for. Everything was so tiny, and said hurtful things.

She looked at me, though said nothing as I came to her. It was just her, the memories, and the fire speaking, whispering as it birthed ash that floated up into the sky. I wasn't there. Not until she spoke.

"I found them. You wouldn't believe where they were. Mr. Floofools made a nest out of some stuff that was under my bed. He must have found them and hoarded them with other junk. I also found a chewed wooden duck..." Solona trailed off, tending to the fire.

I frowned, "I gave Dorian a wooden duck..."

"I'm sorry, Cole. For the wooden duck, and yelling at you. I was agitated."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you liked underwear. And I'm sorry I broke the underwear, too."

She laughed, and it made my belly stop hurting, "It's fine. Do you feel like burning things tonight, Cole?"

"Burning things?"

"I want to burn the stuff I kept from the Circle. You know, for my son. And then, I'm gonna smear the ashes on my face and let the rain wash it all away as I dance..." Solona smiled.

"That...will make things better?"

"No. But it will make me better." She replied, picking up the stuffed toy and looking upon it before setting it in the fire, memories being burned alive, "The stitching was terrible..."

Solona was sad. It made me sad.

"Are you alright?" I frowned. Solona didn't answer. She picked up the old clothes that were made for the wrong boy, and looked at them for a long time.

"I never said thank you to Nana. I wish I did."

"Maybe we can find her?"

She didn't say anything. Solona threw the cotton in the fire, and the flames ate away the memories, "Find what? Her bones? She's probably dead by now...but that would be nice. I would like that...but I don't remember her name."

"But you knit. It's like each time you knit, you say thank you. It isn't much...little...but it is something." I tried, tongue tied and stumbling for the right words.

"I know. It didn't seem like it, but throwing away those little pajamas was one of the most painful things I ever did. It was such a waste." She sighed, deep and mournful. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to give her the underwear.

"I have something for you."

Solona looked at me with curiosity as I spoke, eyes briefly blinking, "Really? What is it?"

"I have it in my hat!" I exclaimed, proud and jovial, taking off my hat. Solona looked like she would burst. I hoped she wouldn't. I would need a lot of bandages to put her back together.

"Cole, that's so sweet! You didn't have to get me anything-" I heard her freeze as I showed her the underwear, displaying it proudly.

"I saw how much you liked underwear. So I got you another!" I smiled, grinned, jovial, amiable and proud. I saw that Solona's mouth was agape, as if she were frozen. I felt my chest swell in pride. I did it! I made her happy! Solona was so happy she was frozen!

Until she pointed...and laughed.

I didn't understand why she was laughing. I thought she liked underwear.

"C...Cole! Th-that's...Maker's Balls, that's not un...un...underwear!" She forced out, words weak from far too much laughter hurting her belly. I didn't understand. I had an underwear.

"Then...what is it?" I asked, confused and perplexed. It took a while for Solona to answer.

"I...It's a...bra-hahahahahaaaa! A bra! Ohh, I can't...I can't breathe!"

She was laughing so hard tears were running down her face.

"A...bra?" I repeated, confused, "Can't they be the same thing?"

Solona couldn't answer with words. She merely shook her head. And pointed and laughed. Again.

"Maybe...Maybe you should give it back? Th-That was beautiful! Oh, thank you, Cole. You meant well, but laughter is more than enough." Solona smiled once she recovered. I blinked and looked at the bra in my hand, not an underwear. I didn't understand.

The fire was done eating the memories, and Solona was happy.

I should probably give Cassandra her bra back.

I found Cassandra out in the courtyard. That is very good.

I needed to apologize to her. I didn't know I was taking her bra. I still don't know what a 'bra' is, but I think it is something Cassandra would be very happy to have back.

Cassandra was with several others-The Iron Bull and Varric. They were talking, but I didn't know of what. I couldn't hear. I was too loud as I approached. Varric smiled at me, happy and free like the hawk.

"Hey, kid. How's it going?" Varric asked me. There were many voices inside him. I wonder how he decided which one spoke the loudest?

"I have to give something back to Cassandra and apologize." I spoke, Cassandra turning towards me, face haunted in shadow and scars that told stories. Like with Solona's bruises. Neither told pretty stories.

"What is it that you want, Cole?" Cassandra asked, voice hard yet gentle.

"I'm sorry, Cassandra."

Her smile fell, and confusion was written upon her face, "Wh...What ever do you mean?"

"I'm sorry I stole your bra. You can have it back." I answered, slowly taking the bra out from my hat. I tried to imagine how someone could wear a bra. I couldn't. But now I knew better not to try it on. I break pretty things when I try.

"I-what-YOU?!" The Seeker snarled, face twisting in rage, like someone who is red inside. Venom spewed from her tongue, like when Solona found me with her underwear.

Before I could answer, Cassandra ripped the bra away from me, desperately trying to hide it. Her color was too red for her face, "You are the thief who took my unmentionables?!"

I tried to speak, but my tongue forgot how to make words and my mouth gaped open and close. Breathe. That was was all I could do. Breathe, swift and uneven as I tried to find the right words to make everything okay.

I tried to remember how to make words, but even if I tried to talk, it felt like I was far too loud, too tense, too rigid, with a wrong shape and with a wrong place. I heard noises, noises that were far too loud, noises that were from me, but not. I did not know where the noise was coming from, or what it was saying. Then I realized there was nothing to say. The noises were saying no words, right or wrong. They just were.

I felt a rough slap on my back, and I fell forward a little. I thought it was Cassandra, but Cassandra was facing away, red skinned and withdrawn. It was The Iron Bull. And he was laughing. Laughing at me.

"Look at you! You're a man, now, Cole!" The Iron Bull roared, boastful and free. I didn't understand what he meant. There was no time.

Varric was laughing, too.

Everyone was laughing. Everyone except me, and Cassandra.

Cassandra then left, and by the look on her face, I knew why everyone was laughing.

I wanted to hide in my hat.

I never meant to embarrass Cassandra in front of everyone-everyone who was pointing and laughing and whistling.

I did something wrong, and now they were laughing at me, too.

I felt ashamed, angry and betrayed.

I felt ashamed for embarrassing Cassandra.

I felt angry at the soldiers who were laughing at us.

I felt betrayed by Varric and The Iron Bull. They were my friends! Why were they laughing at Cassandra's hurt? My hurt?

I felt my face burn like fire, chest clenched shut and breath nonexistent. I tried to hide in my hat, but I was too big. I wished I was smaller. I just wanted to hide.

"Kid, you alright?" Varric's voice called through the wordless noise, making reason to chaos. His hand had pulled my arm away from the rim of my hat, palms warm and sweaty. Varric was not laughing anymore.

Varric was upset, worried and sad, eyes worn like a stone left at erosion's mercy, a man too scarred for his age.

The wordless noise had completely stopped. The Iron Bull had made the clatter quiet.

They did not betray me.

They still are my friends.

"You alright, Cole? You look...weirder...than normal." The Iron Bull questioned. I tried to speak, but couldn't. My tongue could not form the words yet.

"Give the kid some room to breathe. Come on, Kid, let's go for a walk, huh? It'll help you clear your head." Varric spoke, calm and soothing like an old blanket as he began to walk. I followed, feet eager and hands fumbling.

Varric did not talk. Not in a long time as we walked. Not until I calmed.

"So, mind telling me what that was all about?"

"I...I embarrassed Cassandra, and made everyone laugh. I hurt her. I did wrong. I didn't mean to..."

"I know all about that, Kid. I was there, remember? What I mean to ask is: What did you do to get her bra in the first place?" Varric asked, curious and dubious.

"I took it from Cassandra?"

"...before that, Cole. You're not the kind to just go raiding personal items of women." I heard Varric sigh, "Maker, it's like picking teeth with you."

"You...want to pick teeth?" I asked slowly, unsure. Varric shook his head, "It's a figure of speech, Cole. But seriously, how did you get the Seeker's bra, of all things?"

"I knocked on her door. Cassandra didn't answer. She was bathing. So, I went in and took her bra."

Varric tried not to laugh, "No shit? You got balls, kid."

"I do?" I questioned, looking around me. I didn't see any balls...

"Yeah. I mean, this is Cassandra we're talking about. Say, see anything you liked?" Varric asked, tone playful, though there was something else. I didn't know what.

"No? Was I supposed to see something I liked?"

Varric laughed, gentle and soft. His chest swelled with pride, but from what, I wasn't sure, "Nah, don't worry about it. You're a good kid, Cole. Stay that way."

"Thank you? I will try." I replied, Varric going silent for some time, before he didn't, "Hey, Cole, mind if I ask what made you go into the Seeker's chambers?"

"I wanted to find Solona a gift."

Varric didn't respond at first. I don't think he knew how. He must have forgotten how to form words, too.

"...A used bra as a gift? Well...shit...at least it had good intentions." Varric mumbled.

"I thought it was an underwear. They look the same, and I got confused."

"Andraste's Tits!" Varric exclaimed, flabbergasted, "Cole, why the sod would you think giving personal belongings to someone is a good idea? Used, I might add?"

"I...Is it? I broke Solona's underwear, and tried to get her a new one. But I got something else on accident."

"...Do I even want to know?" Varric sighed heavily.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then thought against it. If Solona and Cassandra were embarrassed by their bras and underwear...maybe I shouldn't talk about them? They seemed to really like them.

"...No." I answered, "Varric, how does one choose a gift to give to someone?"

"By not giving someone used undergarments. This for the Herald?"

"Giving a gift means you care." I replied, Varric quiet, forgetting how to speak again, "...Right. I'll just take that as a yes. Have any ideas, Kid?"

I frowned slightly. This was difficult, "No. I don't know what she would like."

Varric chuckled, gloved finger scratching the hair on his chin, "You're thinking too hard, Kid. Try something simple. Like flowers. Something to butter her up."

"Should I...cover her in butter?" Confusion wracked my voice. Varric shook his head, speaking things I couldn't hear.

"It's a figure of speech, Kid." Varric shrugged.

"Solona...already has flowers in her hair, sometimes." I tried to think, think on what would make her happy, think on what didn't involve things I misunderstood.

I knew what I wanted to give to Solona. She would be happy, I think.

Varric would have to help.

Then I could apologize to Cassandra for embarrassing her. Varric said now wasn't a good time.

I just wonder what The Iron Bull meant by his words, and Varric's.

The Iron Bull said I was now a man. Was I not always a man?

...or a little man, a kid?

Varric said I am a good kid. Does that mean I'm not bad, even though I hurt Cassandra?

...or am I not a man?

What do I have to do to be a man?

This confused, vexed and perplexed me, these words that once meant nothing. I don't know why.

Why?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and have a good day. The next chapter will contain loss and death of a loved one. Yay.


	17. Little Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is the greatest enemy of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I posted this chapter, but I guess not. Either way, contains character death. I assume I was smart enough to scan for errors before I posted this, so I apologize if it is not error free. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and enjoy if you must.

Solona wasn't sure why Cole was so intent on dragging her halfway across Ferelden. The odd boy had heavily insisted that she accompany him to Redcliff. Or rather, he accompany her. Though for what it was Cole wanted her to go to the village for, he would not fully answer. The perplexed Solona beyond her understanding. It simply just wasn't like Cole to act so odd.

The villagers of Redcliff were still wary of the Blood Mage, for many of their plights were caused by dark magic. Solona did not mind. She understood. She would be scared of herself, too, were she a normal woman. Though the company of the Fade-Touched blonde did not help ease the peasants and chantry goers.

"Maker's Breath, Cole, why are we in Redcliff? You nearly dragged me half way across Ferelden for...what? Is this something to do with the your Templar?" Solona questioned, tone softening from it's previous irritation as her oceanic eyes fell upon the young man. Her question had caused the youth in leathers to falter in his step, head pivoting towards Solona, then to the busy road before them, then back to the mage.

"No. This is for you. It will make you happy. I hope." Cole spoke, lips forming the words slowly, as if unsure of his answer.

"Well then, can you at least tell me what it is we're doing here?" Solona asked, trying to acquire more information. She swore it was like picking a child's teeth simply to get answers.

"For you to see someone." The blonde answered, as if the answer were simple.

Solona raised a brow, "Who?"

The young man paused, as if debating he should answer, "Someone whom you already know."

The woman sighed deeply, hand raising to scratch her head, "...Thank you, Cole. That is very helpful." The mage responded, voice laced in thick sarcasm that the odd boy took no notice to.

"You are welcome." The blonde spoke softly, head slightly bobbing as his bangs danced.

The pair had remained stationary for some time, an awkwardness thickening the air-at least to Solona. Cole had constantly insisted she lead, though how could Solona lead if she did not know where she was going or whom she was seeing? She really hoped the spirit turned flesh was not going insane...

"Cole, take me to whomever this is. I have no time for games." The mage spat, slightly irritated at being sent on a wild goose chase.

"We are playing a game?" Compassion echoed, slightly shifting from foot to foot, as if nervous. If the boy ever became nervous.

"Cole." Solona hissed through gritted teeth, the odd youth becoming more rigid, sensing her agitation.

Without a word, Cole had begun to move, steps graceful yet wooden. Solona was never sure how he managed to walk with such a gait of stiffness and fluidity.

Following the young man, the mage continued to churn through her thoughts upon whoever this person was. Assuming it was a person. For all she knew, Cole was speaking of the a blade of grass she stepped on when she was younger.

Solona had followed until the pair had reached the village Chantry, the due halting in their steps. The mage had looked upon Cole in confusion, and judging upon his gaze, he had expected her to go in. The woman shook her head, brows furrowed in a lack of her ally's communication, though had complied with his action.

Walking up the stairs, Solona halted at the door. She had not set foot in a Chantry for many years. Part of her fearful of opening the door, imaging she would burst into flame via merely setting foot within the holy building. She was a Blood Mage, yes? The Maker and Andraste hated Blood Magic. Was Cole trying to kill her?

The young woman looked back towards the front of the steps, only to find the odd youth gone. Sighing, Solona had turned her attentions towards the door, a fright coming to her as Cole was right beside her, deep blue eyes looking upon her.

Cole's head cocked slightly, as if he were curious of something, pale bangs of a golden hue blocking the depths of his gaze, "Do you need to be let in, too?"

"I...What? No. No, I can open the door." Solona spoke, hands pressing against the oak, great doors groaning as they slowly opened. The mage awaiting for an intense heat, a bright, sudden burst that would incinerate her to ash. But it never came. Setting a foot over the precipice, she was alive. Maybe she wasn't as hated by the Maker as she thought she was.

"Alright, Cole. Now where?" Solona asked, the youth merely pointing to a seemingly hidden location from her eyes, "There."

The mage had looked upon the blonde, the smell of incense wafting through her senses, air warm and welcoming with gently burning candles as her head teetered towards the odd boy's outstretched arm.

With a soft sigh, the woman hesitantly moved in the general direction of the blonde's indication, unsure where she was entirely going, steps slow lest she miss whomever she was here for. It was beyond a pillar did the mage notice a small room, away from the congregation and sporting the privacy those in ailment would need.

Cautiously did Solona step over the tile boundary into the small room, candles and medicinal herbs burning, casting a faint, almost mythical sureality around the room, the Bride of the Maker towering over the smoking fumes. Light from the windows had splashed into the room, staining the floor and the foot of one of the few beds now occupied.

Looking more closely, the Blood Mage had noticed the bed was held full by a woman of great age, hair white and thin in an unkempt bun, skin wrinkled and ready to seemingly crack with age spots upon her cheek, face gaunt, haunted and skeletal, lips chapped and small as a weak tongue that seemed far too small for her mouth tried to moisten them. The old woman lying within the bed was small, body frail. It almost looked as if she was not there were the covers any thicker.

Solona's brows furrowed, unsure who this ill woman was whose shallow breathing barely heaved the comforters up and down as she drew breath after raspy breath, "Cole, who is-"

"She is dying." The young man spoke, now just behind the dark haired woman. Her eyes only narrowed upon Cole in response, his mind then clicking that he may have said something wrong, or something she was not looking for, "Oh, sorry. I guess you knew that already."

"Yes, because she looked so well...Cole, I don't want to be here. It's uncomfortable and disrespectful." Solona murmured, oceanic eyes looking upon the frail woman upon her deathbed. They had no right to be here during her final moments.

With a sigh, Solona turned upon her heels, legs moving to leave, "Come on, Cole. We're leaving."

"B-But she needs you!" The young man sputtered, the almost urgent tone in his voice causing the Blood Mage to halt and slowly turn around, "You know her! You know her and she knows you, but you are walking away! She needs you, Solona. She didn't walk away when you needed her. I thought this would make you happy, but it's not." Cole's lips pierced together into a frown.

The woman's nostrils flared, temper rising, "Cole, why would I be happy about seeing a damned dying woman? Were you even thinking when you came up with this?" She snarled, the sudden hurt upon his face making Solona realize the harshness of her words, guilt growing.

The blonde's lip trembled slightly, gaze casting towards the cobblestone floor, pale hands gripping the rim of his hat to try and hide, "N..No. I guess I wasn't. I just thought...I wanted to make you happy."

Solona frowned upon seeing the young man try to hide in his hat. It was an action Cole had developed ever since he became real-realer-more self aware. Fear, guilt, and shame were the only emotions that ever made him try to hide. But know Solona knew to add one one emotion to make the young man want to disappear and never be seen again: sadness. Or perhaps even failure. She wasn't entirely sure.

"I never should have said that. I'm sorry, Cole. I'm sorry I hurt you. I know I may seem ungrateful, but I'm not. I'm just being me again-a selfish bitch to both you and Nana. You're right. It's not fair to her or you." Solona frowned deeply, creases forming within her brow.

"You...You remember? You remember her, Solona?" The young man questioned, Cole's pale fingers still wrapped around the rim, wet blue orbs quivering through golden falls.

"Not the way she looks now, if that is Nana. But...it...it would make sense why you brought me here." The mage sighed, gaze falling downwards before rising to meet Cole's, "How should I help her?"

Cole paused, grip loosening upon his hat, "I thought you would know. But I know that sometimes, words are the wrong shape, not enough, not right. Sometimes they make the edges sharp, and it makes things harder-makes it harder to say goodbye. Sometimes, simple things help the most. Sometimes simple things are...all you can do."

Solona frowned slightly, though tore her gaze from the blonde and focused upon the woman lying upon her deathbed. Slowly the mage approached, unsure what to do and standing there awkwardly before kneeling down towards the old woman's level. Solona's blue eyes studied the older mage's profile, running over every wrinkle within her aged face, eyes weary and dull, dry lips lightly parted as raspy breath slipped passed, brows white and thin, face shadowed with the passing of time.

It was terrible. Nana looked so different than what Solona remembered. Her portly stomach was now non existent, and she seemed so much of a shadow of her former self that Solona wouldn't have even cared if the woman were to pass mere minutes prior. But upon thinking-and dwelling-the old mage before her-the stranger-became an old friend. An old friend that helped her through a terrible time, and kept her promise: to never let go. Now, Solona knew what she had to do.

Licking her own lips, Solona reached up her hand upon the bed, intertwining her her youthful fingers-no longer those of a child, but of a woman-with older finger-more frail and skeletal. The hand of the shadow was cold, and Solona felt her heart skip in fear that the woman had passed at that moment.

Solona's mouth opened, but no words came out, the ball within her throat too large, "...Nana?"

The comforters rose with breath, aged eyes weary with time looking upon the girl. The Blood Mage felt her spirits soar, mouth once more opening to speak, words broken and edgy, tongue forgetting how to form words that were too painful, "N...Nana! Nana-I...I..."

Solona wanted to speak thus: "Nana! It's me! Solona! Do you remember me? Do you remember me, Nana?"

She wanted to speak, shout: "Nana! Look at me! Are you proud of me? Look at what I'm fighting for, Nana! Haven't I come so far? Are you proud? Guess what? I'm Herald of Andraste!"

Wanted to speak, cry: "Nana, no! I just found you again! You can't leave yet! The Maker hasn't called you home yet, He can't! We need more time! I need more time! It isn't fair!"

To speak, praise: "Guess what, Nana? You don't have to worry about me anymore! You don't have to watch over me and worry like you did when I was younger. I met a wonderful young man. His name is Cole! I so want you to meet him! You would like him, Nana, he's such a sweet boy! He brought me to you. He brought me to you, Nana, can you believe it? He is Maker sent!"

But what only came out, was thus: "I love you."

Solona's lip trembled, throat clenched so tight she could hardly speak, hand grip strong, "I...I love you, Nana...I love you." Her frown deepened, the old mage looking upon the younger woman, a faint smile gracing her aged face, words barely above a whisper, breath weak, "I...Thank you...Stran...ger..."

The Blood Mage wiped an eye with her free hand, the quilts stilling, weak pulses in the elder's hand going silent. Solona stared at the frail body, awaiting a sign of life. Yet she knew better. Her friend was gone.

"I'm sorry she's gone." Cole spoke, slowly approaching. Solona briefly looked up before beckoning her hand back and rising her feet. Both looked upon the body, silence reigning.

"So am I." The woman replied, leaning upon the bed to kiss the aged brow, slowly righting herself, "I just wish we had more time, but the Maker called her home. She's home, now."

The blonde frowned slightly, hands slowly taking his worn hat off his head, rims now falling over the mage's head, "I think you will need it more than me. I'm sorry. I didn't know she wouldn't recognize you. I thought seeing her again would make you happy."

Solona felt odd with the hat upon her head, though smiled weakly. He was trying to give her comfort when words failed. He was trying to share something so important to him-share it with her. The woman lightly reached out, grasping his hand, tenderly holding, "It's alright, Cole. I never knew her name. She forgot mine. It is fitting, I think."

Hand in hand, the pair took their leave of the room, minds twisting and turning, footfalls echoing against the cobblestone floor.

"I appreciate everything you've done, Cole. I'm sorry for what I said to you, and I can't take it back. I should never yell at you like that, there's no excuse. You would never yell at me with such cruel words. But know I see what you were trying to do. I can never repay you for what you gave me today. Nana would have died, all alone and with no one to help her. We were friends once, and even then we were strangers. But in being strangers, we became friends again. If only for a little. I have no idea how to repay you for that." Solona spoke, voice soft, gripping his hand harder.

"You don't have to do anything for me. I don't mind." Cole answered, the woman merely shaking her head as they exited the Chantry, the dominating sunlight harsh upon their eyes, winds cool yet gentle.

"Do you want to track down your Templar? I bet he's still stationed in Redcliff." The dark haired woman suggested, Cole shaking his head, "No."

"No?"

"That won't help. I can't forgive him nor forget."

"Then accept that you did everything you could, and accept the past. I accept the fact that I had a son as a mere child. I accept the fact that I have a terrible taste in men. It's okay to remember the past, but it you keep rejecting the past it just makes you bitter. You can't forgive the Templar, and that's okay. But that anger you have? Never let it consume you." Solona paused, as if in thought, "Don't change for the bad. Change for the good. Never change for anyone but yourself."

The blonde blinked, looking down upon her, "I will. I will try."

"Good." The mage smiled, the pair walking towards the village only to have Cole's voice break the silence.

"Solona? What are belly buttons for?" The rouge questioned, Solona looking upon him, blinking.

"That came out of nowhere. But I don't know what they're for. I think I know what they're from. Why? Been contemplating your navel?"

Cole paused slightly, "Yes. No."

The woman rolled her eyes, "Yes, no, maybe so?"

"Yes?"

"I shall take that as a no."

"But I said yes!"

"And half the time when you answer yes, you mean no, mister. What's with you and your navel?" Solona questioned, Cole once more pausing, as if to think.

"Do you have a navel, Solona?"

The mage sighed, "...Yes, Cole, I have a belly button. Everything has a belly button."

"Do horses have a belly button?"

"Yes...yes, I think so."

"Does grass have a belly button?"

"You! Shushy-Shushy! No, grass does not have a navel! Why are you asking me all these questions?" Solona blurted, Cole blinking, as it were obvious.

"To make you happy. You're sad."

"Don't worry about me, Cole. I'm fine." The young woman replied, smiling slightly, "You know, when we get back to Skyhold, your helping me bake something."


	18. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona was right. Intimacy is scary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague sexual content ahoy. Yay or nay?

Kissing is hard, but I am getting better, I think. It is simple, when we kiss-simple yet sincere, slow and gentle, tender and loving. Sometimes when we stop, I don't want to. Sometimes, I want to continue, to kiss and hold, taste and touch, bolder, an unknowing want, a need growing, but part of me does not. I feel scared, sometimes, of this feeling, of being incomplete, always wanting to be more-with her, like a part of her, but not.

I want more, but I don't know what 'more' is. 'More'...more what? More to feel? To touch? To hold? To embrace? To soothe? To love?

I don't understand.

I don't think my hands understand, either. They search without knowing what they seek, grasping and holding, as if trying to find their purpose through sweaty palms, fingers dancing over delicate skin. I want to touch more, but I don't. Some of it is fear, but there is something else, too. I do not touch her because I do not want to be like the others.

The others touched her, hurt her, bruised and shamed her. I never want to touch her like that, never. When I touch Solona, I only want her to feel safe, and happy, and loved, not scared, beaten, embarrassed and used.

The Iron Bull once said I am a man now.

I think I now know what The Iron Bull meant.

If that is what The Iron Bull thinks that is what makes a man, then I am not a man in his eyes, but I am still a man.

I try to think of what was going through that Templar's mind that would hurt Solona, would make her bruises tell stories that she was too ashamed to speak of. I could not think of a reason why someone would ever do that to another, hurt them and destroy them just to build themselves up, like The Nightmare.

I try to think of what the Nice Templar thought. I stopped thinking. I didn't want to know what he was thinking at the time. It wasn't right. None of it was right. Never should one do that to a child. Never.

It made me want to vomit.

Those Templars are not men, not in my eyes.

They are monsters.

And I will never be like them.

I want to show Solona that not everyone is a monster.

That not everyone will hurt her.

That not all arms will be prisons.

That not all kisses will taste bitter.

That not all words will cut.

That not all hands will hit.

That not all eyes are cruel.

And that she is not broken, and that I can try, try to show her these things.

I think...that is what 'more' is. More than hurt, fear, sadness and guilt. More is...is wanting to help that person, help them soothe, grow and love.

I want to love her more. That is what I want to do.

* * *

Tongues tied tenderly, hot breath caught between wanting lips.  Hands search and grasp hungerly, tugging at the cloth of clothes, running through seas of night and sun and caressing, tender yet testing, pushing, breaking passed restraints.

Our lips danced, hers soft against mine, tongues gliding and exploring, feeling heated flesh and tasting her-sweet-like honey.

Our hands were busy, caressing gentle skin, leaving want and more, growing, consuming, burning. Pinpricks tickled where fingers spun their trails, longing and wanting yet never sating.

One by one the layers fell, want growing, hurting and burning, blocking out the fear, the fear of what would come next, the fear of intimacy, the fear of being naked. Solona was right. Intimacy is scary. But it didn't matter.

I wanted her more, oh, so much more.

So much it hurt.

Flesh pressed against flesh in a dance that was hard to follow, and made the want hurt even more. Forehead to forehead, eyes to eyes, lips to parted lips, bodies breathing as one, hot breath upon fragile skin leaving a shutter of titillation and want.

And then I was on my back, and she above, hovering and toying, teasing in her dance.

She laughed whilst she teased and toiled, "Are you ready, Cole?"

Was I ready?

I tried to answer.

I couldn't.

I-

I couldn't-

I couldn't breathe.

Fear shaking, skulking at the edges, making them rough and ridged. Was I ready? I don't know, should I know? Yes? No? Yes, but no, no, but, yes...No, no, no, no, I can't, I can't relax, can't release. I wanted to hide-hide and go back to safety, comfort, a place where the edges weren't so rough and sharp, but soft and smooth. I wanted to run, run away and keep running. But how can I run if I can't breathe, walls closing in, getting closer and closer, sheets strangling, room spinning. Loud, everything was so loud and I couldn't tell-tell if I was here, there, real, realer, not real, like a dream-

"Cole?"

She was looking at me, still looking, looking in lust-

"Cole, are you alright?"

No, judgement, judge and jury, looking in judgement, judging me-

"Just...just calm down, okay, Cole? N-Nothing has to happen."

No...concern. Worry. For me?

I looked upon her, breath ragged and ridged, my chest heaving with sweat. My heart was pounding so fast, I thought it would burst, fear gripping my chest, cold and heavy.

Her eyes were wide, curious yet fearful. Solona wasn't teasing anymore, nor dancing, nor on top. She was laying beside me now, worrying and fretting, gentle fingers touching my face. She was reassuring herself I was safe, in all her tender fury.

"Are you alright?" She asked. Her voice was soft and low, as if she didn't want to frighte  me further. But it wasn't her fault. I thought I was ready. I wasn't.

"Yes. No. I got scared. I'm sorry I ruined it."

"Don't be. It's my fault, I should have known better that to rush."

I became quiet, the want gone, no longer hurting, pushed down by fear, and then comfort. I hope her want wasn't as painful as mine. If it is, and she held back...then...

"I thought you would be angry at me. Does it hurt?" I asked. Solona looked at me, eyes like a quivering wave in the moon's light. She always said my eyes were beautiful. I don't know if that's true. It's hard to look at your own eyes without taking them out.

Her brow wrinkled, a look of confusion, "Does what hurt?"

"The want?"

"The want?...Oh. I see." Solona shrugged, "I wouldn't call it painful. But it is present. It will fade in time."

I paused, unsure what to say, tongue forgetting, "...Thank you."

She smiled, small yet sincere, "Awe, my sweet boy." Solona cooed, soft lips brushing against my cheek, "You're like me, but backwards."

"Intimacy is scary. I didn't think it would be." I spoke, Solona pressing against me, fingers in my hair, "When it's with someone you care about, it can be."

She then yawned, back popping as she stretched, "But...I can wait. You waited for me."

I looked towards her, feeling her fingers in my hair, but their toying was slower, as if she were falling asleep. I wanted to say thank you, but saying something that simple didn't feel like it was enough.

"If it makes you feel better, I was nervous. Am nervous. But not scared. You aren't like the others. Not at all." She mumbled, and I felt proud.

I held her in my arms that night. I couldn't think of how to express my thanks any other way. It was a small thing, a simple thing, but I wanted her to sleep in the arms of someone that would protect her and help her, not hurt and shame her.

Intimacy is scary, I know that now.

I thought I was ready, but I wasn't.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if the want would have won, and not the fear, but it's okay.

For now, this is enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading thus far. I feel like I get good with writing Cole, they there are times I am awful at writing in his point of view. I think I did good.


	19. A God's Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Chapter seventeen, Little Words, is up. I apparently skipped it and put Intimacy up instead. Either way, this chapter contains chaos. And betrayal. 
> 
> Have fun reading, yes?

* * *

I have not seen Solona in several weeks. Hera had the Inquisition scout the Emerald Graves, and Solona stayed behind in case Corypheus struck. I missed her, but it was okay. There are more trees in the Emerald Graves than there are in Skyhold. I like tress. They never hurt anyone. I think Solona would have liked them, too.

Being away from her is hard, some days. I think it is a good thing, though. Being away gave me time to think about what 'more' is. I learned more about myself, I think, too. I tried to learn more about relationships from Varric. He would listen, amused and proud, laughing, a sparkle in his eye. Varric would speak, but never molds the words into an answer. I think...I think Varric wants me to find my own answers. But I don't know what those answers might be. I think I have the answer to what is 'more', and what is a 'man', but...It's hard being human. I'm trying so hard.

I hope I do it right.

The answers are...different. As a spirit, what would be answers then, cannot be answers now. The words have changed, meaning has changed. Now, you not only need simple words and actions, but greater, more complex words and actions, because the small things aren't enough anymore. You have to think ahead now, to the future.

Varric once asked me where I thought Solona and I would be twenty years from now. I didn't know the answer for his question. I said I didn't know.

Varric said it was a good answer, but I didn't know why because I wasn't thinking about the future. My friend said it was a good answer because later isn't known.

If the future was unknown, I at least wanted to see Solona again. I was very happy when I did. She was happy, too.

And then, the sky tore, turning a sickly green. It hurt my eyes.

I saw the look on Solona's face, skin pale and form shaking. She wanted to run, flit, fly into flight. But she wouldn't. She promised herself that she wouldn't be selfish ever again.

I think she would keep that promise.

* * *

 

It was time, and everyone knew it. The very heavens were torn asunder, and the Fade bled into the material realm in flickers of raw magic and demonic horrors, twisted and marred. The earth cracked and floated into the torn skies, obeying the will of the Fade. Obeying the will of a God. The Elder One has come.

Gone was the Fade. Gone was the Veil. Gone was the world of the Maker. It had all bled into one chaotic mass, a new world of death and ruin. The world had become what it once was. Solona had felt her hope die. Surely the Maker would never allow such an atrocity to occur? Never abandon His children and allow a world that He had forsaken to bleed the life out of the one he created anew?

Unless the Maker never existed at all?

That is what Corypheus claimed.

Perhaps he was right, and all she believed and held reverence over was just a foolish notion?

There is proof of Elven Gods, and even the Old Gods.

But not the Maker.

Was this it? Was this the end? Did she fight for nothing, like so many others?

Maybe she did.

Maybe she still believed, no matter how foolish, like many of the others.

Maybe the Maker did exist, at one point.

Maybe he didn't.

But none of that mattered.

All that mattered was to be seen, yet unseen. Standing at the once great Temple of Sacred Ashes, ruins covered in dust and raw magic, the battle was to begin. There were no great armies clashing under two banners, no bards present to record what was about to transpire. There was only Corypheus, and the members of the Inner Circle that stood between the destruction of a world they loved.

Before them Corypheus stood, blighted talons grasping the Anchor, which had shimmered with the crimson hue of magic so raw and great prickles of the arcane arts could be felt tickling the skin of his rivals. Magic so powerful it was tangible. And all to command at The Elder One's whim.

The ever present sneer of the tainted creature appeared to twist in gnarled rage, black tongue spouting bile and venom at the usurpers of his entitled power, "You! Thieves that are undeserving to wield such power which rightfully belongs to me! You are toying with power you could only wish to have. But no matter. Now you gaze upon true power! Now you gaze upon your God! Now you will kneel." Corypheus hissed, the Anchor releasing from his claws, becoming active as the magic began to build.

Herah stared at the Darkspawn, violet eyes showing no sign of fear, jaw clenched and teeth gritting, "I bow to no beast, creature." The Qunari's marked hand had cast the air around her in a mist of brilliant green, pure and untainted magic pulsing from her palm.

The Inquisitor's statement gave voice to those who did not have the power to speak, for fear gripped their hearts. Were it not for the crimson mist that enveloped her marred hand, Solona would have appeared a mere follower. Now, however, she was marked. The Herald of Andraste. And the Inquisitor, giving her a voice she did not have.

Corypheus looked upon the Qunari, face softening in something akin to shock, which was swiftly replaced by a gnarled sneer, "Then I shall make you kneel."

The magic from the Anchor cackled through the air, and before anyone could react, raw power erupted towards the Inner Circle that cracked the earth and sent shock waves with blighted shards. The members had scattered from the blow, others barely dodging as the sudden burst of power brought the attention of the demons.

Just as soon as Herah was knocked to her feet, she was upon them again, roaring out orders like a high dragon spewing heated breath, "Damn it! Varric, Sera, suppressive fire! Cassandra, Vivienne and Blackwall, protect the others! Solas and Solona, keep the demons under control! Bull, Dorian, Cole, with me! This ends today!" The Qunari bellowed, unsheathing her blades as she gave chase to the Darkspawn. Her companions obeyed, even if Cole was ever hesitant to follow her lead.

By the time Solona got to her feet, shades were already upon her, and a barrage of arrows hailed from the torn heavens. Sera and the Dwarf were already raining wood and steel upon the demons to protect their allies, the shades flinching and shrieking as the weapons pierced through their shrouded bodies. Solona took that distraction to get a safe distance away, readying her dagger a shade gave one last groan before dissipating into mere black mist, the arrows that were once embedded into its hide falling to the ground, as if never hitting their mark.

The wounded shade turned towards the archers, hissing in rage before a sudden burst of crimson ruptured through the air, spraying into a fine mist. Blood ruptured from the Maleficar's marked hand, enveloping the demon as the spirit slowly seemed to calm, stance no longer hostile. Solona breathed deeply, the violent surge of pain dissipating, the shade calm amongst a torrent of arrows, magic and steel. With a flicker of her eyes towards Cassandra-the Seeker now busy with an Envy Demon-the friendly shade obeyed the commands of the mage, going to aid its new found ally.

The Seeker, however, was in a rage, sword a mere sliver of light in the illumination of the magics. Cassandra's strikes were swift, and brutal, if carefully measured, never exceeded what was needed of a blow, muscles tense and rigid. She did not know where Blackwall went during the chaos, nor did she like the violent flashing of red and green from the upper levels of the Temple-no doubt caused by Herah fighting Corypheus-but she was ordered to protect, and that is what she would do. The Envy demon gnashed its almost human teeth towards her, blood from the bite of sacred steel flowing from its wounds, yet the demon showed no signs of tiring. Blow after blow, the Seeker was forced to block with her shield, metal groaning, shield arm straining and feet kicking up dirt from the force.

Sweat had formed upon the woman's brow as a blow had caused Cassandra to fall upon a knee. The Seeker had redoubled her efforts in defeating this demon, for every second in combat ment a second more her allies were in perrel. The woman had roared, launching forward and bashing the spirit with her shield. The Envy demon had stumbled, screaming in its state of vulnerability before swiping at the Seeker with two arms. Cassandra was a strong, staunch woman, but she was only human. The double blows were too much for her mortal frame, and the Seeker was knocked off her feet onto the harsh stone.

Dazed, Cassandra struggled to find her bearings as the Envy demon approached, sword arm pointed towards the creature, blessed blade threatening to bite. The Seeker backed away, trying to rise, yet the demon advanced, arms outstretched to make a killing blow.

Cassandra expected to be wounded, if not fatally by the blow. What she did not expect, however, was the blow never to occur. Nor did she expect a shade to come to her rescue, the shadow slashing at the Envy Demon with its claws and spells. The Nevarran woman hastily got to her feet, if a bit wobbly as the demons did battle in claws and screams.

Cassandra righted herself and charged, blade drawn and shield ready as the cowardly demon bashed the lesser shade with strike after strike. The sounds of what would be bones sounded throughout the air and resounded through the Seeker's ears, the shade falling in defeat as it slumped to the ground, body turning into tainted mist as the Envy demon stood victorious over its traitorous kin. But that distraction was all Cassandra required, for with a frightful cry, the Seeker thrust her blade into the demon's back, demonic blood spurting. The demon roared shrilly, body spasming as the Nevarran woman twisted the blade, silencing the cry.

The creature had crumpled into a pathetic heap, a mass of limbs and disturbed flesh. But Cassandra did not have time to rest. Her allies needed her. It was then through the chaos she noticed more lesser demons were fighting their own demonic kin, and the flashing and near deafening noises were increasing. She could practically feel the magic come alive from the sheer amount of power.

A sudden blast shook the ground that caught the Seeker off guard, the woman noticing Solas had cast a spell of massive power. A spell of sheer force had formed into a ball, causing lesser demons to be pulled towards the sphere-much against their will. It was clear the elven mage was struggling to force all the demons towards the sphere, sweat forming and trickling down his brow. For the apostate, normally this spell would not require such force of will. But with the number of demons fighting against him for their freedom, it was quite taxing.

"The Mark-use it now!" Solas ordered, urgency in his voice as a crimson mist once more ruptured violently from the blood mage's palm, enveloping the entrapped demons until they resisted no more, and calmed. The cry of pain from Solona swiftly died, the mage falling to her knees, hand drenched in blood and body in sweat. Cold. She felt cold. Like she wasn't entirely there. Like more of her was out there than in her own body.

The magical force dissipated as Solas broke the spell, the friendly demons beginning to join the fray. The elven apostate then approached the human, placing a hand upon her shoulder, "Can you stand?"

"Yes...I can." Solona responded slowly, rising to her feet, knees shaking as she readied her dagger, grip shaking. Magic flowed in a frosted cloud around Solas' staff, the man focusing his energy to unleash a bolt of ice upon a flaming demon. The shards merely melted before they reached the flaming form of the monster of rage, liquid flame dripping from its eyes, as if tears alight with wrath.

"It's too strong." The maleficar stated, she unable to bend its will to submit, heat scorching her skin despite the beast's distance.

"I think you underestimate our power, Herald." Solas replied, staff shimmering brighter, Solona feeling the chill of his power now all around her, freezing the tips of her fingers, breath visible. A chill blast of ice then shot from the stall, crystal shards whistling through the ash and impaling the beast of fire as it roared, flames rising. Frost whirled around the demon in a dance, a force of wills fighting for control in a flurry of flame and frost.

Solas focused upon his staff once more, reaching into his wells and giving one final push. The ice shards floating around the area were visible enough for Solona to see, and when they touched her skin, they were so cold they almost felt like they were searing her skin. She could only imagine what that demon was going through as it bellowed and cursed in anger until the ice fully engulfed the creature. The whirlwind of ice slowed, and no traces of fire were seen. When the spell died down, all that was left was a solid form of the beast, flame frozen in mid flickr.

The elven apostate smiled tiredly, leaning upon his staff as the ice dancing around it faltered. Glancing at the Herald, Solas noted she was no longer watching him, but was gazing out towards the innermost chaos, silently commanding and controlling where her demonic thralls should go.

Vivienne was seen off in the distance, fighting in the midst of the fray with spell and blade. A sphere of power enveloped the Enchanter, magic swirling and slowing whatever enemy crossed her spell. Her blade radiated with light as she struck with both staff and sword, poise formidable, yet graceful and with dignity. Blood stained her attire and dark flesh, a gash upon her leg where a demon had broken through her defenses. But it mattered not. Vivienne appeared almost to be a natural force, a trained warrior fighting alone in a sea of monsters and horrors. And like Adamant Fortress, she would stand on the brink of oblivion, and not falter.

Solas could also hear the laughs and cackles of Sera, the blonde having made a habit of counting how many baddies she shot in the face with her arrows, and appeared to have started a competition with Varric. Who claimed Bianca was more than ready to win. The pair rather easily took out enemies that were fodder for their arrows, or weakened them to the point that Cassandra or Blackwall could easily finish the creatures off.

Another explosion cracked through the skies above, much louder and stronger than before. There shere forced frightened Solona, and she prayed to the Maker that Herah wasn't losing. The distraction had caused Solona to lose focus of her thralls, the lesser demons now attacking their enemies at random rather than aid a member of the Inner Circle. Chaos renewed, and it became difficult to tell friend from foe. Part of Solona felt helpless, that she could do little much then influence the lesser demons. If she were fighting creatures with blood, that would be so much more helpful. But she would have to make do with what she had.

She did not know where Solas had gone, the pair having been separated. Solona dared not attack any shade lest it came after her, not wanting to slay an ally. She had seen a shade approach, and noticed it seemed to be following her, docile and oblivious to the battle around it. Accept that the demon was twitching.

Sweat formed on the woman's brow as she readied her dagger. This wasn't a good sign. If this shade was fighting for control of itself, or the Mark was wearing off, that meant other demons would be regaining their own control back as well.

In a final shudder, the demon stilled, gaze falling upon the mage as a shrill hiss escaped its form, claws ready to strike. A swift plunge of the blade into the shade's head silenced the dark spirit, the body evaporating into black mist. Solona shook herself, trying to refocus and gain the demons back under control, and as such failed to see a demon approached until its talons had cut into her skin, blood spurting.

Pain seared her hip as the blood mage fell to the ground, dagger falling and bouncing away. The shade bellowed a low groan, fists rising to strike. Solona closed her eyes, not wanting to see the thing that would kill her, or she would be pissed that she let herself be killed by a mere shade. She had expected to hear the sound of bone snapping. But instead, the woman had heard the clang of a shield, Blackwall having intercepted the blow and pushed the demon back. The shade stumbled from the blow, and attempted to counter when a sword pierced its chest. In a final hiss, the creature went limp, form dispersing into the ashen air.

The bearded man's armor was covered in dirt and grime, a gash upon his face that caused blood to stain his facial hair. Blackwall turned towards his downed companion, a strong arm hoisting Solona to her feet, "Up you go, now."

"I...thank you." The woman breathed, the older man merely nodding in response, brandishing his blade towards an approaching threat.

Solona looked upon her injury, watching the blood run down and stain her clothes. There was so much blood. She doubted she would survive the battle. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was stopping Corypheus. Regaining her senses, Solona picked up her dagger, eager to help Blackwall until another blast shook from the battleground above. The amount of red light was blinding, and to her horror, Solona noticed a massive form land upon the ruins from the shadows. It was Corypheus' dragon.

The blighted dragon bellowed, decaying wings outstretched as The Elder One mounted his beast. The Darkspawn sneered at Herah and her allies, the dragon more interested at watching the clash of demons and magic down bellow.

"And now, witness the deaths of those who follow you!" Corypheus' voice carried, the Anchor reacting and shimmering a deep red, the magister reaching into the very bottom of his wells to unleash the true wrath of a God.

"He will kill everyone below if he finishes that spell! We can't let him! We can't!" Cole voiced in concern, looking at the female Qunari desperately, though there was little they could do. Dorian continued to cast fireball after fireball with his staff, the air around him hot and searing. Yet the spells did little other than bounce off the monster's blighted scales, rewarding the group up the dragon's attention as it breathed deeply, shooting out a blast of tainted flame.

The group managed to evade the attack, tiny, almost glasslike shards erupting and splitting into the earth.

"This is shit! What do we do, Kadan?" Bull questioned, looking upon Herah. The woman sighed, unsure herself, "I only have one choice. But I'm not sure it will work. I hope it does."

They could feel it. Something was changing, shifting, in the ground, in the air, everywhere. The magic within the air was building, so thick it could physically be touched. Tiny shards of shimmering red were forming in the air, like liquid glass. But it held no warmth. It only held chill with a sense of dread.

The spell was about to be complete, would have been completed, if not for one thing.

The Guardian of Mythal.

The massive beast struck with talon and maw from the torn skies. Like a hawk plucking a snake from a branch, the Guardian knocked the False Archedemon from her perch, scaled bodies tumbling and wings flailing as sections of the Temple crumbled under their sheer weight. Dirt and ash flittered towards the skies of ruin as stone tumbled, walls collapsing. Herah and the others were forced to retreat from the Temple lest they become crushed by the falling debris, windstorms kicking up dust bowls as the dragons raged on ground and sky.

Corypheus still stood atop his mount, sneer seeming to grow as the Anchor reacted, magic growing, forming and taking shape. The infected wyrm roared, wings out stretching as she took flight, barely dodging a ball of fire that birthed a storm of rock and flame. Several demons were incinerated by the inferno.

At this point, the members of the Inner Circle were just focused on surviving, fighting the endless horde of demons and avoiding the scaled bodies that breathed fire and red lyrium. Chaos was now an understatement. And it appeared that fate was not in their favor. Mana was swiftly depleting, arrows were lost, daggers were broken, shields were scarred, robes tattered and armor cracked. The flashes of red haze grew more and more prevalent in the Fade torn skies-a sign Corypheus was winning. The roars of the drakes seemed to come from everywhere, the strength of their wings picking up storms of wind and ash.

"We cannot keep this up, Inquisitor. Act now or we will all fall!" Solas shouted, spells weakening as he began to beat a demon over the head with his staff, Dorian finishing the creature off with fireball. By now every member was on the offensive, fighting for their lives. The only one that wasn't, was Solona. The woman focused on her blood magic, using her own blood from her earlier wound to heal the injuries of her companions, the blood mage pale and covered in a film of sweat.

Herah nodded grimly, daggers slaying a demon before she looked towards the sky, the Guardian being bombarded by power. She found it amazing the dragon was still fighting, still alive. Until the Guardian began to fall.

Down, down, down she fell.

Passed the floating islands and through clouds of magic, wings tucked against her frame.

Until her wings unfurled, and in a torrent of rage and a shrill scream, birthed a hellish force that turned demons to ash and scorched rock, the smell of burnt flesh and smoke filling the air. The force of her massive wings fanned the flames, urging her charge onward. And when the dragon passed over the members of the Inquisition, the female Qunari was plucked from the ground and into the Guardian's talons.

Yes, this was the most insane thing Herah was going to do in her life. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and she knew nothing more desperate than this.

"Kadan! Katoh! Katoh, no!" Bull cried, alarmed, cursing in his foreign language as he watched Herah be carried off helplessly. Several others watched Herah and her dragon climb into the skies, the Qunari woman struggling to climb onto the dragon's back. More than once she had almost fell, for the Guardian was alert and dodging blasts of tainted magic, the wind howling from the beating of wings.

Solona watched as the skies seemed to flash endlessly in colors of green and red, the bodies of the beasts twisting the twirling through the clouded heavens. Cole was beside the blood mage, concerned over her well being, though voiced it not. The demons that were left were now mere stragglers-ones that could easily be dispatched by their warriors.

Red and green lightning raged, the Faded clouds shifting to the sources of power until the sky burst forth in an emerald hue which lit up the heavens in a painful light to the sight. The vivid illumination was followed by a deafening blast that parted the clouds, the dragons falling from the skies locked in combat. Only this time, it was quite clear Corypheus was losing.

The dragons refused to let go, biting and clawing at once another as they fell in a downward spiral. The earth groaned and quaked as they landed, bodies crashing and bones breaking. Dust was belched into the air was gravel and stone crumbled. Injured and jarred, the wyrms rose, shaking rock and dust off of their forms. Their riders were thrown, wounded and dazed, yet brought to their feet by force of will, neither willing to break.

"No! You have stolen what was rightfully mine and corrupted the Anchor! There is only one rightful God, and that is I, Corypheus! Since you have stolen so much that was to be mine, I shall steal what is yours!" The Elder One spoke, voice loud and carrying as he raised his hands, as if to beckon the will of the Old Gods, magic forming and flowing.

Solona watched the spectacle from above on the upper grounds, and realized too late Corypheus was using blood magic. Were she healthier, she could have attempted to counter his magic, but in her state of awareness, she was far too slow. And then chaos erupted within the Inner Circle.

It started with Dorian launching a volley of fire at Sera. The elven woman didn't expect the attack, and was thrown off of her feet as she landed upon harsh rock and dug into her back.

The attack had caused Cassandra to react defensively, nullifying any magical spells Dorian could muster. The Nevarran woman hissed in pain as an arrow pierced her sword arm, turning in the direction of the projectile to see Varric readying another arrow with Bianca. The second arrow merely bounced off the Seeker's shield, her jaw clenched in fury, "Do not make me do this, Varric!"

The Dwarf twitched, though reloaded Bianca and took aim. Cassandra dared not attack her friend, and was confused when Varric's feet began to be engulf in an icy chill. Then his waist. Then his whole body. The Seeker had noticed Vivienne had cast a spell, focusing on subduing their companions, for they were not in their right minds.

Only for her to be charged by Blackwall. The Enchanter barely reacted in time, her magical blade meeting the Warden's steel, her staff once more radiating with elemental magic. They appeared to dance, as if responding to music only they could hear, parrying and twirling and blocking. Other dances, however, were far less graceful.

The Wolf did not have the grace to dodge the Bull, and in a last ditch effort to save himself, held his staff in the air in a feeble attempt at self protection. The two handed war axe snapped the beautifully crafted wood in half, a loud snap ringing out and wood flying. Solas grunted, the icy mist upon his faithful staff dying as he mustered what mana he had left to form a small ball of energy. Upon releasing it, the Qunari was knocked off his feet and slammed onto the ground, axe soaring farther away. But it was only a distraction. A deterrent to hold off further injury until Corypheus truly lost.

Solona tried to escape the violence around her, not wanting to harm any of her friends, and fearing what casting any spell would do to her health. In truth, she wasn't sure she had the strength to combat Corypheus' control for her friends' minds. If she did, maybe none of this would have happened.

The blood mage had lost Cole in the fray, the dragons once more battling as a green light continued to flash down below. Solona just hoped Herah won before anyone got hurt.

And then she felt pain.

Blood had run freely from a gash in her arm, Solona covering her wound, though the crimson had run through fragile fingers. She wasn't even sure she had any blood left in her to bleed. The slice had stung, pain bright and rigid, but her eyes focused no longer on the wound, but to the boy. The boy whose hand held a dagger dripping with blood. Her blood.

"C...Cole?" The woman sputtered, unsure if her eyes were telling the truth. What if this was a trick done by Corypheus? Cole wouldn't have hurt her. He would never do that, "Cole, wha...what are you doing?"

Would he?

The blonde had looked upon her, eyes no longer of her dear friend, her best friend, or a lover, but of a stranger. It scared her. Blood and sweat had mixed upon his face, yet the dagger held strong within his grip. The young man approached, dagger poised all too well. Solona felt her heart double in its pace, hands rising to try to calm and soothe, if ever shaken, "Cole, please!-Wait! You-You don't want to do this! You don't have to do this! Cory-"

A shriek escaped the woman as she saw the man move to strike, steel ripping her shirt as Solona fell backwards onto the jagged ground. Within seconds, she was trying to crawl away, and unsheathed her dagger, hand shaking as she pointed the blade towards him, chest heaving, "Stay back! Stay back! I...I mean it! Maker, don't you remember me?! Solona? I'm...I'm...please..."

It was pathetic. Her life was on the line, and she couldn't even find the will to fight back. She didn't want to be a bad Blood Mage. She didn't want to hurt anyone. And even though she feared death, feared what the Chant of Light had to heed, she couldn't bring herself to hurt someone she cherished. Nor any of the members of the Inner Circle. They were her family.

"Please...you're...Maker, you're my best friend, a-and more! I love you, Cole, please don't do this!" Solona pleaded, tears in her eyes as the dagger shook violently within her grasp. Cole twitched, and she was hoping that would be enough to break the manipulation, to get through to him, to break him free, but it was not.

The strange man had then lunged, easily disarming the mage as he pinned her down. Solona struggled underneath him, kicking and arms flailing about to try and push him off, to keep the dagger away. She was sure her attempts at self preservation were so weak a child could do better, but she wasn't going down without a fight.

The woman had tried to scratch his face, nails breaking the skin as Cole grunted above her. And then she was completely pinned, arms crushed by his weight as a hand gripped her chin, forcing Solona to look upon him. The dagger was poised in his other hand, if shaken. Solona couldn't tell who was shaking worse: herself from the fear, or Cole, perhaps in an effort to fight Corypheus' control.

But if the odd boy was fighting for control of his mind, it was too late.

Cole only smiled coldly, and uttered thus, "Look into my eyes."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to Asunder? Check and mate.
> 
> Thank you for reading and supporting! Not sure when the second part will be up. Enjoy your day!


	20. The Scar

Blood flickered through the air, crimson hue flashing off of the metallic jaws of the blade, hungered fangs ripping through flesh. A sharp gasp rushed through broken lips, muscles tensing and writhing. Death spread and invaded soft skin, cold and unmerciful like the chill of the moon's light upon a still night; noiseless and as still as the void. And then a rebellion in blood.

Boiling life fluid, enraged and inflamed with the last remnant of the spiritual well, struck with such power that the blonde was thrown back from the blood mage. The bloodied dagger flung from the puppet's grasp, bounding and clanging in echoes against the ashen floor. Soft flickers of crimson had danced off the steeled weapon, being cast off in a free form of flight.

Cole himself had been forcefully pushed back, a crack ringing out as his body collided with a stone wall, broken yet standing. Compassion made no utterance, and slumped awkwardly against the stone and jagged ground. Shaggy bangs hid the blonde's eyes, hair slowly becoming laden with ash, a film of sweat upon his face and drying blood present. If Cole were conscience, he moved not.

Solona breathed swift and shallow, eyes wide with shock and pain. Her hands shook as they hovered over the stab wound, fingers clumsily touching and inspecting, returning red. Hair clung to her face, plastered via perspiration, skin pale and limbs chilled.

It had been so close; a last minute spell that she was not sure would even work. Nor now did she know that she would survive. The sharp pain that felt like fire was still present, hitching her breath and sending a wave of dread over her. Solona couldn't even feel her fingers, nor her toes. She could see them, but not feel them. Just like she could feel the wound, but not see it through her shirt. But she could see and feel the blood. So warm when she felt so cold. So cold it was hot. So hot it was cold.

What felt like hours were mere minutes, and every second closer to the end, edges growing sharp. Solona began to wonder if she would be able to reunite with her parents. What would that be like? Would they still love her unconditionally? What of her child? Would he be marred and twisted like he was in his first and last moments of life? Or would he be what he deserved; a healthy and perfect body wrapped in the arms of love? What of Nana? What of her old friend that had become a stranger?

Or what if none of it mattered at all?

According to Corypheus, the Maker never existed.

But in believing that none of it mattered, Corypheus would win.

In believing Corypheus, giving up, she would surely die.

Corypheus would win.

And Solona would not let him defeat her.

Her parents could wait.

Her son could wait.

Nana could wait.

The Maker could wait.

She would fight to live, or fall.

There was so little of it left, but the mana she forced into being caused her blood to dissipate and return to her flesh. Solona screwed her eyes tight, trying to focus and slow the flow of blood to her wound, trying to clot the blood. She failed to register any of her battling comrades around her, nor the violent flashing of the green Anchor and the wrath of dragon fire.

Her mana had dwindled to a mere sliver of flow, though it was enough. It had to be enough. It just had to.

Solona tried to sit up, though uttered a moan in pain, vision blurring as the sharpness wracked her muscles. The woman placed her hand upon the wound in an attempt to quell the pain, bloodied lips silently moving in prayer. It was now she just noticed that blood was within her mouth. But none of that mattered now.

All that mattered was Cole.

Was he injured? Was he even alive? What if she accidentally killed him?

No, no, no, no, she couldn't think like that. Not like that, not at all.

He would live. How could he not? He was Maker sent. Cole had to live.

The blood mage grit her teeth, spitting out a thick glob of blood that dripped lazily from her lips, line refusing to break. Unable to rise, Solona crawled towards the blonde, bloodied fingers gripping the ashen earth. Sometimes it seemed like she was almost there, sometimes it seemed like she was going nowhere. She wanted to stop, to sleep, to just rest, but couldn't. The boy helped her through so much. She wanted to at least help him in the only way she knew how.

When she got to the spirit turned flesh, her hands shook, fingers jittery and clumsy as she touched his face and hair, smearing blood and trying to find a source of life. Her lips struggled to form words, and her throat was too choked with her own blood to speak. At this point, she could not tell if the blood upon her hands were from her own body or Cole's.

And then a blinding flash of raw magic surged from the battlefield, a last cry of vanity ringing from the throat of the Elder God as he was sealed into the Fade. His influence was gone, the minds returned. But the blast from the Anchor was worse. The deafening roar of magic cast a beam into the torn skies, and the heavens were sealed and healed.

The earth and torn buildings fell from the skies, stones breaking and ground shattering in a flurry of rocks and ash. It felt like it was the end of the world, and Solona was stuck and unable to flee. Rocky shrapnel exploded and flew, earth crushed people and toppled ruins, and the dust and ash was so thick it was impossible to breathe. The others may have fled-had a chance to flee-but the blood mage and spirit did not.

A tear slid down the woman's dirt and blood stained cheek as she cradled Cole. It felt so cold, it almost felt like she wasn't even there. But she was. Her arms tried to hold him close and shield him from the fallen rock and ruins. She kissed his hair again and again, silently praying that the Maker took her, and not him.

That was all she could do.

That was the best she could do.

And when the dirt cleared and rubble ceased to fall, the heavens shined with a marvelous light that told the story of what could have been.


	21. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole's point of view once again. Enjoy, if you wish and thank you for reading and supporting!

Pale, placid and palpable she lay upon the sheets, breath slow and caught between her teeth. Crimson soaked the shrouded gauze and dulled her skin. Too white, too white she was, like flakes of snow raging in a blizzard. The pink hue upon her lips drained, and they no longer looked like the same ones that danced with my own. Her hair seemed far too lifeless, too diseased and covered with taint to be the same hair that held all the little stars and smelled of dandelions.

I did not recognize what Solona had become.

She did not smell pretty; she smelled of medicinal herbs and ointments so thick it almost made me sick.

She did not look like the Solona I knew; skin white and stains of blood and dirt upon her.

Part of me hoped she wasn't really Solona, not the woman that I cared for. Not the one...not the one...

I couldn't see her eyes, covered by closed lids that sunk into her head. Part of me kept hoping that when Solona would open her eyes, it wouldn't be the eyes of Solona, but of someone else. Solona wasn't really here, not really. She was somewhere else, safe, and happy, and free, and flittering and fluttering.

But she was not.

I knew better. I didn't recognize the woman on the bed, but I knew who she was.

I did not recognize what Solona had become.

And it was all my fault.

I looked upon my hands, the hands that held the dagger, the hands that hurt her.

I broke my promise. I gave a promise that I could not keep, and I broke it.

I promised her that I would not hurt her, not be like the others. Yet I did.

My hands were shaking, calloused and laden with grime. Were they the same hands as before? The same hands that only touched out of love and tenderness?

Am I the same man as before? A good man? What if I hurt her again-worse-worse than worse-worse than all the others before and-no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I will not-I will not let that happen.

If, if it does, I will go away, somewhere far away so she can be safe, from me. So everyone can be safe from me. So I can never break my promise again. Never again.

But...what if she never wakes? What if the dagger went too deep, savage and cruel? What if she...

...Dies?

Reason gone, stalking, shaking in the shadows, wandering adrift cast out in a sea of black, sun gone with no holder to bear.

If Solona dies, then-no. No, no, no, no, no, she will not die. She cannot die. The Maker hasn't taken her yet, called her home, why would He take her now, now when I cannot follow?

Chest clenched tight, breath caught in burning lungs and a ball too big to swallow formed. My breath wheezed and hitched, a betraying hand shooting to grab Solona's own, pale and cold.

I almost forgot to be gentle. Gentle, so gentle I tried to be as my hand held her own, shaking and sweating. Sweating, sweating, so wet and shaking. I couldn't stop.

I wanted to speak, to say something, anything to try and make her wake, to say what I wanted, but I forgot how to form words.

The shaking of my hand did not cease, would not, and I felt my own lips tremble as I tried to find my voice.

I couldn't find mine.

I tried to help, to fight against Corypheus, but it...just wasn't enough. I wasn't strong enough.

Holding her hand as she lay was all I could do. It was the best I could do, just like with Cole.

And now with Solona.

I held her hand for a long time, trying to keep her warm, filled with regret.

And then, she stirred, heavy eyes opening, dull and weary. She smiled when she saw him, weak, but overjoyed and relieved, a breath escaping passed her lips, tongue too tired for words. All for me. None for herself.

Selfless in her self sacrifice.

I held and kissed a woman I did not recognize by appearance, but knew by heart.

She saw me cry in sadness and beg for forgiveness.

But there was nothing to forgive; Solona had already forgiven me.

And there was nothing to be sad over; I saw nothing but happiness in her eyes-for me.

Solona was wrong. I was wrong.

Solona was not a bad Blood Mage.

A bad Blood Mage would not be so selfless.

I was not a bad man.

Only monsters hurt others without regret.

We were neither, but one in the same.


	22. Maleficar's Redemption

It was a battle of demons and blood, wave after wave crashing upon the other in an endless tide that ceased to break upon the Fade. The Veil, and now the world, was torn asunder. And in flashes of green and red, the world was awaiting the victor of its savior to mend the Veil and right what was broken. Or, possibly, its destroyer to hasten the world to its bitter end.

Islands of earth and ash floated up towards the skies where dragons ruled, fire and blight raining down from the heavens.

Within the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Corypheus stood, a twisted sneer upon the blighted creature's face, the Orb flashing red with power as it flittered to and fro around him. The earth surrounding the Elder One was scarred with magic that could shake the very Fade, once proud pillars toppling into the ashen ground, spewing clouds of ash and dust.

A lone figure slowly rose from the debris, small frame coughing in an attempt to get the needles from her lungs. It did not matter. Every breath, every movement brought pain. And now, standing upon shaking legs that were ready to give with cut and bruised skin, Solona had now realized that everything she fought for had been in vain.

How foolish was she to hope that she might win-she, a mere blood mage? How foolish was she to hope that the Inquisition could win, that they could defeat Corypheus, and she could be free of death by his hand? Once more, she was a fool. Once more, Solona was wishing that she had thrown herself from the battlements that night. But there was something more, as well.

There was pride.

Indeed, the girl was proud for not running away like how she oh, so wanted to. She was proud in her defiance-however so weak-against one so strong. She was proud for helping in the Inquisition. She was proud for being a good Blood Mage, if there even was such a thing.

Slowly, the woman regained her footing, though she wanted to do anything but. Her pride would not allow this blighted creature to end her life lying face down upon the ground.

A red mist glowed softly around her palm, cut and worn as Solona focused upon it. Red, not green, like Herah's. Tainted, corrupted, spoiled from blood magic. And she, the Blood Mage. But she was no Magister. Not like the Elder One.

The young woman did not notice the Darkspawn approach from the dust and ash, and had shrieked when a taloned hand had roughly gripped her arm and hoisted her into the air. Solona felt her shoulder scream from the brute force, socket threatening to pop as her feet dangled for ground that simply was not there.

"Tell me, Blood Mage...what is it you wished to gain in opposing me?" Corypheus questioned, breath smelling of vile taint as Solona tried to not look at the creature before her. Anything but that thing.

Solona tried to speak, but found her voice far too dry. Her free arm desperately tried to break the beast's hold, but she was far too weak, blood drained and body broken.

"T...To prove...to prove to the world...that I am not...you. That not all Blood Mages are...bad." She forced, mouth as dry as the Hissing Wastes. The creature seemed to study the red mark upon her hand before allowing her to drop upon the ground, Orb activating in a crimson hue.

"Of course you are not like me! You, who are weak! You, who has stolen my power! You, who has hindered my right to godhood!" Corypheus spoke, arms raising as if to beckon the torn heavens, air growing thick and heavy as the magic charged, "And now, you face the wrath of your New God! Face your death, usur-"

The slicing echo of a blade had pierced the Darkspawn's twisted maw, the magic disrupting in a chaotic blast that sent Solona spiraling backwards and causing stone to fall from the skies. The Elder One clawed at his wound, cursing in the old Tevinter Language as black blood fell from his gnarled face.

Dazed and deafened, the young woman struggled to find her bearings, and was confused when she felt someone pulling her to her feet, urging her forward, onward.

"The Iron Bull and Herah are coming, but you need to get to safety!" The voice spoke, swift with concern and worry. Solona could barely understand her companion. The words blurred and the world became a haze, a dream, a figment of the Fade.

Before the woman registered what was going on, a sudden burst of magic had erupted through the very ground before them, sending the pair spiraling backwards upon the jagged earth. She could hear the Elder One curse and threaten. It would not let them leave.

"You dare show yourself, demon? I shall banish your soul to the darkest part of the Fade!" Corypheus bellowed, air once more thickening. At that statement, Solona knew who was with her, facing death with her. It made her heart almost stop.

"I am no demon, and you are no god!" The boy shot back, tone harsh and threatening. One dagger lost, one left. Perspiration had stained his brow, blood mixing with sweat and running down his chin.

"Cole!" Solona called in worry, seeing the towering figures of Bull and Herah approach through the ash, worn and weary, though eager to fight. Good. They are here. They can help. They can help Cole.

Corypheus' eyes narrowed upon the odd blonde, wounded face twisting into a sneer, "You dare slander me, demon? It shall be your last insult!"

The group felt the air thicken as the magic reared its head, Orb now active and violent once more. It struck, like a bolt of lightning with the wrath of a fallen god towards the young man. It would have hit him. Cole would have been dead. Should have.

If it were not for the Qunari.

"Cole! Get out of th-" The deafening surge of raw magic and blinding flash flushed out what was going to be said, blood flying and the scent of searing flesh that was far too hot filled the ash laden air. More dust flittered into the sky, and the earth belched from the impact, and the sound of a bodies roughly hitting the ground rung in Solona's ears.

Herah, the Inquisitor, had paused, absolutely stunned. Though Solona did not know why. She did not think as she blindly rushed into the murk, following the coughs and gasps of the boy that saved her.

"Cole! Cole!" The young woman called, coughing as she could not breathe. Compassion was kneeling upon the ground, struggling to rise. She kneeled down beside him, and tried to aid him in standing. Both almost fell down.

"Are you alright?" Solona questioned in concern, Cole still coughing, dazed from the blow.

"Th...The Iron Bull? He...Where is he?!"

"I don't know. We...we need to find him. Go to Herah." The blood mage forced out, the pair turning towards the female Qunari, and through the settling dust found that she did not move. She was still staring.

Only when the dust and ash truly cleared, did they see the object of her attention.

Iron Bull was on the ground, unmoving, deep lacerations upon his body that were running red with blood, limbs mangled and proud horns broken. His single eye had remained open, unblinking.

Solona felt the blood drain from her body. She felt Cole begin to shake. But worst of all, she saw Herah cry. Herah never cried. Ever.

"Th...The Iron Bull?" Cole whispered, voice quavering as his bruised lips trembled, eyes clouding as he approached on shaken legs, falling to his knees, "No...no, no, no, no, no, nonononononono, NO!"

He didn't even reach his friend when he fell. He was too hurt. Hurt in self blame and guilt.

Solona felt weak, shaking. It felt as if the world had become clouded once more, hazy. Like a dream. But this...this was a nightmare. A nightmare that haunted her with Herah's tears, the Qunari woman's hard violet eyes now looking soft and broken. Her face now seemed to have far too many creases for a woman her age to have. She was kneeling, touching, willing her lover to rise. First in orders of denial, then in loud sobs.

Cole knelt before the body of his friend, crying softly and body shaking. His hands were clamped together. Solona realize he was biting his own hand, drawing blood. It may have been in self punishment. It may have been to quiet the sobs that were wracking his throat and making his voice hoarse. She did not know. What she did know, however, was the look Herah gave her.

It said "Do something."

"Do something."

"You are the Blood Mage."

"You can make him better."

"You can make him whole and warm, not torn and dead."

But Solona could do nothing but watch, in a haze. She had stood, pale, beaten and weak. And watched.

She was not a good Blood Mage.

She didn't even try to help.

The dark chuckling of Corypheus broke the dream, the illusion, and snapped her back into the cold dredges of reality. His mere voice filled her blood with rage. She had thought more of her blood was on the outside of her than on the inside. She guessed she was wrong.

Solona saw the dagger upon the ground that Cole had used to pierce his tained maw, and wrapped her hand around the pommel.

"Corypheus!" The blood mage snarled, the Elder One turning towards her, eternal sneer present upon his deformed lips.

In rage, the young woman had approached the Darkspawn, blind with emotion, "You are no God. If it is one thing I look forward to, it is seeing you get no unrest in this life or the next! Like me, you will be damned in this life and cast adrift in the Fade! That is one thing you cannot escape!"

A sneer once more became evident, Solona's movements slowing as she found herself unable to move. Try as she might, she could not. Her mind was not her own.

"Tell me, Blood Mage, what does your Chant of Light say? Where is your Maker now? Hmmm? Call his wrath upon me! He does not answer you, does He? He does not, for He does not exist. Your vision of victory is vain and for not!" The Elder One bellowed, Orb once more dancing around him.

The woman tried to speak, yet found her voice caught within her throat. Rather, she had slowly made her way back towards her allies, movements stiff. It did not matter. No matter how hard she tried to fight his control, he still had her. She could not break free.

Solona approached Cole, kneeling beside him. He did not notice the dagger, shaking within her tiny hand. He saw her, but not the dagger. She closed her eyes, praying, hoping, willing him to see the dagger and get away, to kill her if need be.

'Please, please, please, please, Cole, please, please, see the dagger. No, no, no, no, no, no, see the dagger, get away, get away, Maker, Maker, Maker help. Maker please, answer my prayers...Maker? Maker, where are you?...where are you, Maker? Maker, please...please...Cole, kill me, kill me so you can live. Please. I don't...I can't...Maker...answer me. Please...' Solona thought desperately, hand now shaking violently, dagger reflecting the light of the Fade, tainted with blighted blood. Her breathing was erratic, tears clouding her vision and flowing freely down her dirt and blood stained cheeks.

'See it...see it...see it, see it, see it, see it, see it-'

"See it!" The woman screeched, dagger jerking in a sudden thrust, shredding his clothes and tearing into flesh, hot blood trickling along the blade, on the hilt, on her fingers. She heard him gasp, soft and sharp. The pain upon his face hurt her the most. Not of physical pain, but of betrayal.

Corypheus may have had control of her body, but he did not have control of her emotions. She cried, sobbed like the little girl she once was. She wanted to say she was sorry, say she tried to warn him, say she would rather be the one hurt than him. Wanted to say she loved him. But could not, not matter how hard she tried. Corypheus would not allow it. Even if he was not controlling her, the ball within her throat was too big to speak. She could barely breathe.

She did not register where the dagger was, but saw Cole pull his hand back, and have it stained the color of red. She wished so much that that blood was hers.

The Elder One laughed, a twisted snarl appearing upon his face as he held the Orb within his blighted talons, triumphant.

Solona lowered her head, praying and praying within her head, but received no answer. Only oppression for what she wanted to do.

"You see what you have wrought? You have failed, usurpers that you are! Watch, and witness the dawn of a new Age!" The blighted man chortled in victory, the Orb once more charging the air with raw power.

Solona felt the Darkspawn loosen his hold of her, felt his taint creep out of her being as he became high off of his own accomplishments.

The woman sobbed, cupping the boy's face, now slick with sweat and shaking from loss of blood. She had apologized numerous times, over and over and over again as she professed again and again.

Cole had remained dazed, though found the blood that he had shed was no more. Not on his hands, clothes or the ground. His wound no longer hurt. Until he realized it was no more, healed completely.

The young man looked upon the woman, Solona smiling through the tears in her eyes, and blood now running from her mouth. Until he saw the grimace of pain splash across her features. It was too late that he noticed she had stabbed herself-all to save him.

"Solona! No! No! No, no, no, no, not you, too! Not you, too!" Cole spoke, voice frantic and shaking, body trembling as he held onto the wound-her wound.

"I...It's..." Blood had ruptured from her mouth, and the blood mage had fallen, Compassion catching her, holding her, stroking her and running his hands through her hair that once held little suns.

"No, no, no, no, no, please! Please, no! Don't-Don't-" The blonde pleaded, grasped for words he could not find. His breath had hitched, and his body shook with fear. She was shaking now, shaking and growing cold. Cold and shaking. And he could not help her. He could not make her stop. The wound was too deep.

"Cole?...rem...remember...about good...good Blood Mages?" She asked, coughing and choking upon the blood in her throat.

"Y...Yes. You are a good Blood Mage, Solona. Not like Erimond, not like Corypheus..."

"The...only good...Blood Mage...is a...dead one."

"No! No, that is not...that is not..." Cole broke off, head shaking and trying to listen to her words, though found that while her lips were moving, no words came out. It took him several minutes to realize she was no longer breathing, and whatever words she tried to speak to him were lost.

Herah was still crying, now hugging the body of Bull.

And Corypheus became a God.

* * *

Blue eyes fluttered open under tired lids, Solona's hair splayed about upon a soft pillow. She was in a room. 

A room?

Thank the Maker it t'was but a dream.

A soft sigh escaped the woman's chapped lips, her head lazily falling to the side upon hearing a noise. Slowly, weakly, the woman tried to right herself into a sitting position.

She could not.

"You...don't have to do that." The Herald spoke, voice a tad laden with sleep as her eyes turned towards the Fade-touched boy who was placing bread crumbs upon the sill.

"Birds like bread crumbs." The blonde stated softly, taking his time space the bread out before turning to towards the bedridden woman, "And you like birds."

"To study and draw," Solona replied, the corners of her lips lightly lifting into a thin smile, "It looks nice out...side. You can help more people outside than...in here."

Cole now moved towards the blood mage, whose skin had regained its shade, though her body was still robbed of strength. The stab wound had still pained her, and more often than not the Herald spent her days sleeping. And sleeping or no, the strange youth made an attempt to visit Solona at least once a day.

The mage's tired eyes watched as the youth clad in leathers sat upon a chair next to her bed, Cole's posture wooden, blue eyes gazing upon Solona through golden hair, "But I am helping you."

"You're being selfish." The woman spoke, laugh soundless and breathless as the young man held her Marked hand with his, lips tenderly pressing against a wrapped knuckle, "But how can I not, with a reason as lovely as you?"

A noise escaped from the apostate's throat, lips once more stretched to a thin smile, "My sweet boy...getting more human everyday."

"And realer." A gentle smile tugged upon Cole's features, the blonde holding the woman's hand for several seconds before gingerly setting it to rest once more, "How do you feel? I'm sorry if I say it wrong. I can't hear you well."

"Tired." The woman stated, pausing to collect her thoughts, "Like a bronto ran me over...and then a dragon stepped on me."

"I'm sorry. If just fought against Corypheus more, maybe-"

"Cole. Don't. You did nothing wrong." Solona spoke, the conversation dying as the mage turned her attention towards a seed eater that had perched itself upon the sill, pecking at the crumbs, "...Do you remember my drawing, Cole?"

"Of the bird? Yes. Why?"

"I think that bird is the same one. Or at least the same kind. I thought it would have left by now." The woman murmured, smiling gently, "It is good to see it still here, surviving despite the odds. It is...a lot like you and me."

Cole looked upon Solona, head swiveling towards the seed eater, back to the mage, towards the bird, then finally settling upon the black haired woman, "But...we are not birds."

"No, but we're survivors. It's what we do best, I guess." The maleficar shrugged slightly, settling down into the pillows, "Thank you, Cole. I thought I wasn't strong enough to do so many things, to get passed so many fears and traumas, but I did. I wouldn't have become a stronger person if you weren't here. And I would face all those terrible memories again just to be with you. I thought the Maker hated me for all these years and believed everything that had gone wrong was retribution for my sins. But now I know better. The Maker brought me to you, my savior...and reason for redemption."

Solona paused, winded from the words that spilled forth from her mouth, "I...I know I may not...show it much, but I love you." The woman blinked, sinking farther into the pillows and comforter, as if her energy was drained, "I love you, Cole."

Cole looked upon the woman in thought, as if digesting her words. The youth lowered himself towards Solona's level, and stole a kiss through a smile.

"You never hid from me, Solona."

The blood mage smiled at his words, Cole planting his lips upon her brow for good measure before taking his leave and allowing the woman to rest.


	23. The Fade

The Fade was a dangerous place. It was a place Solona knew well. Far too well, in fact, for her dreams in slumber had often led to the shadows of the past in which demons lay. This dream, to her dismay, was no different.

The stone cage of Ferelden's Circle Tower was something she remembered well, even if it was something she hid in the darkest recesses of her mind. The dimly lit candles cast shadows upon the corridors, cold walls lined with books filled with arcane knowledge ripe with age. Templars silently lined the halls, dark eyes hidden under metal helmets, a mask of judgement and oppression, swords of mercy at the ready.

Soft footfalls resounded against the hard floor as Solona walked through the halls, spying faces within shadows and shadows within faces. The gaze of the Templars were unmoving and unblinking, as if a still life of a memory, however faded with time. Feminine hands brushed against the chill of the merciless walls, fingers far too soft, yet unharmed. Solona paused in her stride when she noted that the walls were bleeding upon her touch, the warm crimson glistening in the dim light. Within the sanguine hue mirrored a face much like the Herald's own, yet lacked the gaunt and defining features of one upon reaching womanhood. The face looking upon her was that of a mere child, so distant, yet so familiar.

Solona knew better. Solona always knew. How the demons loved toying with her. As such, the blood mage was not startled when a cry had seemed to pierce through the Fade, distant, yet so close.

It was the cry of an infant.

For many a dream Solona had been attempting to find the source of the cry. Each time the Fade would concoct something to keep her from her goal. Now, however, Solona was positive she knew the way. Or better yet, could make a way.

The Fade bent to her will, shaped with purpose and strength. A door that was not a door opened, and a tiny room, dimly lit and holding a wooden bath, emerged from the darkness. Solona's eyes scanned the precipice cautiously before stepping through, the cries now near, here and dire.

Solona's gaze fell upon the tub, memories awakening as the soft cries echoed from within. Leaning over the wooden rim, the mage saw a small body wrapped within a blanket underwater. With haste, the woman reached down, hands going into the water which had turned crimson upon contact. It did not matter. She knew where the cries were coming from. She knew what she needed to do.

Solona's arms wrapped around the cloth, feeling the form of a small body just under the fabric. No sooner had her arms brought the babe to breach the water's surface did a taloned hand strike from the crimson, grasping cloth and flesh.

The apostate gasped in fear, straining against the creature within the mirk as it attempted to pull both she and child into the bloody waters. Sharp talons dug into the woman's arm, blood drawing, yet she would not give in. The sobbing of the babe was enough to strengthen her resolve.

"You...will not...have him!" Solona grunted, claws ripping and tearing as the grip of the demon failed, the mage gasping as she fell backwards and slammed into the wall. The babe was still embraced within her hold, cloth damp and cries soft. The room brightened, darkness fading and light flittering.

The maleficar shook herself to regain her bearings, breath swift as she unveiled the child, repulsed by what she had seen. The babe was even more horrid than she had remembered, cleft palate dominant, digits merged, belly bloated and skin an off shade.

For so long she had been searching for the lost soul of her son. Now she was sure she had found him. Solona wished she never had.

Solona wished she never bore such a creature.

Solona hoped the child was just a joke of the Fade, but even the Fade would not be this cruel.

Solona even began to wonder how she could have felt such dismay from the memory. Now she did not understand where the emotions came from. Now she did not understand how she cried over this...thing.

Rage boiled within the dark haired woman, face flushing and blood boiling. Her hand had cackled to life with a spell, energy charging to ruin the mewing infant and to end its hold over her.

To end the crying.

To end the dreams.

To end the torture.

To end the life of something that never should have existed.

To end the life of something what was too weak and unfit to survive.

Briefly did Solona wonder if she would even hear the weak cries over the roar of her magic.

She wondered if the babe would scream so loud its lungs would burst.

Her hand moved to pierce the belly and charr flesh, yet the magic forming within her hand slowly cackled and died, her facial features softening into a frown.

What was she doing?

Slowly, Solona's hand fell to her side, lip quivering as she began to cradle the babe.

_What am I doing?_

Her son didn't deserve this, helpless and at her mercy by the very one who should be protecting him.

_I'm sorry._

Tears welled within Solona's eyes, damn threatening to break, though not out of sorrow.

_I'm so sorry._

But out of pity.

_I'm sorry you never got to live._

A trail of tears cascaded down the woman's face.

_I'm sorry for not protecting you._

Her grip tightened around the babe, her teared cheek smearing against her son's.

_I'm sorry I didn't know to cry. But my womb did. It cried when you died. I hope my tears mean something now, if ever late._

Tender lips brushed against the off colored brow of the little boy again and again.

_I'm sorry I didn't know you would die._

Solona held the child close to her, never wanting to relent her hold, fearing the end. The infant no longer cried, for he had all he needed.

_I'm sorry for not loving you sooner._

_And though it breaks my heart, I know we must part._

_I hope you are not alone, Nana will guide your soul._

_You will forever be my little boy, until the Maker calls me home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I love delving and exploring Solona's character. Random Cole/Solona will be in the next chapter!


	24. The Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Extensive use of terrible knock knock jokes.

Several days had passed, and the Herald had grown in strength with the passing of time. Whilst she regained her natural hue and energy, she was still confined to her bed for fear of the wound reopening. The pain she experienced will trying to rise did not help either. Solona had heard that the Inquisition threw a party shortly after the defeat of Corypheus, and naturally, Solona had missed it, having spent the time in a blood loss induced coma. Orlesian fashion grew upon the mage, and she would have loved to have the excuse to dress so nicely as she did at the Game. It was a nice change from her own handmade attire of leathers and furs. And bones. Still, the blood mage was simply happy to be alive, and the recent dream of her son had lifted her spirits.

However, Solona was perplexed by a letter she had just received, her brows furrowing as she read the contents. Her attention was briefly diverted from the written content, however, upon hearing a knock at her chamber door. A smile formed upon Solona's face as she saw the Fade touched blonde enter.

"Coli-Boli!" The woman beamed, Cole approaching and leaning to tenderly kiss her brow. However, when the young man pulled back, a slight look of confusion had crossed his features, "I'm...sorry?"

A soundless laughed escaped the maleficar, "Oh, sorry. I was trying to think of a little name for you. It was either Coli-Boli or Coleslaw. And I don't think you would like Coleslaw."

"But I like my name." The blonde spoke, Solona nodding in agreement.

"I have no doubt that you do. If you want, you can think of a name to call me. To make it even." The mage suggested, Compassion pausing in thought, thinking and dwelling. After several seconds, the young man smiled, "Solona."

"Yes?" The woman focused her attention once more towards her lover, Cole appearing slightly perplexed.

"That is your name, Solona. Do you not like it?" The blonde asked, a slight laugh escaping the blood mage after a second of pause, "Silly goose, that's not what I meant. Alright, Cole, you win. I will call you Cole, and you will call me Solona. Deal?"

"What else would we call each other?"

"Terms of endearment? They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"How can you tell you are fuzzy inside?" Cole asked, Solona sighing.

"Cole? I am about to tell you one of my most darkest secrets ever. That I have never told anyone. Ever. And that I am very self conscience about. Will you keep it a secret?" The woman questioned, the young man nodding, ready to help.

With that, Solona cleared her throat, "Cole...I am short, as you know. Because I am so short, I have to look up towards most people. I'm missing out on a whole other world up there! But I'm happy I'm so short and have to look up all the time, because I have one ugly double chin when I look down that would turn someone to stone and make them explode. Like Solas' Stonefist."

Cole blinked, unable to find the pain within the confession, "But...you are not sad?"

Solona laughed slightly, "I know, Cole. I'm joking."

"Oh...Solona, do you want to hear a knock, knock joke? I have been practicing with Varric." The blonde asked, the woman nodding, smiling, "Sure. Give me what you got."

"Okay. Knock, knock."

The smile was still plastered to Solona's face, "Who's there?"

"Olive."

"Olive who?"

"Olive you." Cole smiled, the woman laughing at his joke, however cheesy and terrible.

"That's cute! Olive you, too, Cole!" Solona continued to grin, "Okay...I think I have one. Knock, knock."

"Who is there, Solona?"

"Cows go."

"Cows go who?"

"No, silly goose! Cows go moo!" The blood mage then laughed at her own joke, though was forced to stop as it irritated her healing wound, "Ow..."

Cole frowned slightly upon seeing her in pain, "Are you alright? Do you need anything that i can help with?"

Solona shook her head as she slowly recovered, "No...No thank you, Cole. It only hurts when I laugh, anyway. Hahha...owww..."

"Perhaps we should stop with the knock, knock jokes?" The young man questioned, the blood mage nodding, "Yes, I think so...at least they save me from boredom. I forget what I was doing before you came in...oh, yeah. I got this letter today-from a young girl, I assume. She...She claims she is my sister."

"Your sister? I didn't know you had a sister."

"Neither did I until today. She says she lives in Redcliff. Along with...several other children. I assume my siblings? Or her children? I don't know. The girl-what is her name? Ah, Arella, says she would like to meet..."

"I think you would be happy if you met your sister, Solona." Cole smiled, the woman chewing over his comment, "Perhaps...but I don't see how this girl could have contacted me. Much less know of me. I was taken to the Circle very young, after all. As far as I know, my parents never had any other children. At least not when I was with them. And if they did have any others, they never kept in contact with me...I don't know...I don't trust it..."

"You don't have to go alone, Solona. I can come with you, if you want."

Solona sighed, "We'll see, Cole. We'll see, in a few more days...I can't believe it. I might have a sister..."

* * *

It was like a reminiscent scene of a memory. There they were, walking down the dirt road that would take them to the village of Redcliff, the dirt crunching under their heels. It was the same path down to the village they took to see Nana. Though with all the events that occurred since then, Nana's death seemed to be more like a distant memory from a dream. Solona hoped the Maker kept that old mage by his side. Nana was Maker sent, much like the Blood Mage believed that boy was. The dark haired woman hoped the Maker kept both of them by His side-Nana and her little boy. Solona briefly wondered if she was worthy enough to grace the Maker's side. If she was, she would be able to hold her baby again, and never let go. But until then, Nana would just have to hold him until the Maker called the Herald home.

It had been two weeks since the defeat of Corypheus, and while Solona was not fully healed of her injury, the black haired mage was becoming irritable from being caged within Skyhold. Besides, there were more important topics of interest other than her recovery and physical health. One of these topics of interest was held within Solona's hand, the woman's oceanic eyes scanning the blocky, almost childlike words upon the crinkled parchment. If this letter was true, then the girl lived in Redcliff. Solona's sister lived in Redcliff.

A sister. That was something Solona was not sure she even truly had. Cole claimed her parents were dead, so how could she have a sister? It was odd, though despite the skepticism, the Blood Mage gained a sense of excitement-and nervousness-as both she and the boy began to pass by the various little hamlets. A smile was etched into the young woman's face, and try as she might to stop the facial feature, Solona could not bring herself to cease.

With an unwavering smile, the Herald held the letter within her hands, the parchment becoming damp due to the film of sweat upon her palm. At least Cole was with her. The blonde would make sure she was okay. Not that Cole allowed Solona to go herself. The Hinderlands could be dangerous.

"It is okay, Solona. You do not need to be nervous." The Fade-touched boy spoke, words soft as he walked besides the young mage.

Solona's eyes briefly broke away from the letter, oceanic eyes turning to look upon her dear companion, "I know, Cole. I just can't help it."

"I am sure she is nervous, too." The blonde continued to try and soothe, Solona's gaze turning towards one of the many wooden houses. One of them had to be her's, but which one? There were so many, "I am sure you are right, Cole."

The Herald felt her palms continue to sweat, small, feminine fingers pressing against the letter within her hold, a knot forming within her gut. Oh, no. What if her sister was not her sister? What if this Arella was a fraud? No. No, no. Cole would sense it. Cole would sense if the girl meant harm and mistrust. At least, Solona hoped the blonde would be able to sense any ill intent. Yes, yes, Cole would help her if it came to that. The Maleficar trusted the young man with her life.

Solona exhaled a shaky, uneven breath that slipped through her thin, chapped lips. A ball had formed within her throat, and it was one Solona feared would stop her from taking breath it felt so large. The young woman then decided to fold up the letter and place it safely within her satchel. Solona did not want to ruin the yellowed parchment with her sweaty hands-which she proceeded to wipe against her robes.

The Blood Mage felt a warm hand brush against her clammy one, warmth tenderly enveloping her more feminine fingers with Cole's more calloused hand. The pale woman felt a rosy heat creep upon her face, skin flushing a reddish hue through a small smile whilst her gaze turned upon the taller man. Solona squeezed her fingers in return upon seeing the odd boy smile gingerly in return.

"Thank you, Cole." The dark haired mage murmured softly, reaching upon her tip toes to place a tender kiss upon the blonde's cheek. Despite the woman's words, she knew they were not necessary.

The blonde in leathers smiled ever so slightly, fingers still curled around Solona's smaller ones whilst they walked, "You are welcome."

A gentle breeze toyed with Solona's raven hair, cooling the heated flush from her cheeks. Thank the Maker for that sweet boy. The mage knew without a doubt she would be lost if Cole were not present. Solona was not sure what she ever did to deserve such a companion, but she was great full for the Fade touched boy. It was odd, but with Cole by her side, the young woman felt as if everything would be okay. Solona did not know such a feeling of calm and ease could be created by just being in the presence of another. Perhaps it took a special person? Well, in that case, Solona was happy to have Cole as her special person.

The mage's strides began to slow as the pair neared to quaint wooden home that Solona perceived to be her destination. It was not long before the woman ceased her movements altogether, oceanic eyes looking upon the home. Slowly, almost clumsily did Solona pull out the letter with her free hand, cautiously unfurling the parchment.

Thin lips pressing together, the woman scanned the ink upon the yellowed page, eyes rising to the wooden home that was intricately carved in Ferelden fashion. Solona felt her face flush, cheeks turning a red hue to such an extent that even the tips of her ears began to heat. What if this was the wrong home? Or what is Solona because too flustered and stumbling over her words like a fool? The woman paused from her thoughts to took around the village of Redcliff, though was torn from her doubt upon feeling Cole's larger, more calloused hand squeeze her own, sweat building between their palms.

Looking upon the Fade touched blonde, a tender smile spread upon the mage's lips, teeth glistening under a slight film of saliva. Maker, she loved that young man. Cole was her best friend, "Thank you for coming with me, Cole. I am afraid of many things. Things that I should not even be afraid of. But I am not afraid with you by my side."

It was stupid. Solona wished she wasn't such a coward. She also hoped her sister was nice. The girl sounded nice, based upon her writings. Maybe they had a lot of things in common. That would be exciting! Solona hoped she would get to introduce Cole. That was even more exciting! She hoped Cole and her sister would get along well. But Cole got along with just about everyone. Ohhh, perhaps she would meet family members? Solona never had family members before!

Excitement, as well as nervousness, began to plague the mage's body, feet rocking in place. Regretfully, Solona let go of Cole's hand in order to approach the home. It was then the young woman felt a pair of lips gingerly caress her brow, and though the affection was simple, and brief, Solona discovered that she could not stop smiling, a foolish grin plastered upon her features.

"I will wait for you, Solona." The blonde murmured softly, the mage producing a small wave whilst she walked.

The young woman's grin was persistent, and Solona found that her face was beginning to hurt. Oh, well. That kiss was worth it. And what better way to introduce oneself than being all smiles?

The feeling of giddiness and excitement flooded the man, her knuckles rasping thrice against the oak door. Solona waited, body once more rocking from tip to heel upon her feet, as if she were akin to a child unable to stay still.

The woman's ears perked upon hearing the great door unlock and slowly open, a youthful girl of fair features peering from inside. The girl sported straw blonde hair that was tied within a braid, blue eyes wide and face splotched with freckles. The girl appeared thin in build, though despite her youthful appearance, her body displayed to be in the flushes of puberty.

The straw blonde girl peered upon the mage, before slowly opening the door, cream dress dancing in the slight breeze against her knees, "Yes? Can I help you?"

Solona went to open her mouth to introduce herself, though found herself at a suddenly loss for words. Rather, the mage slightly held up the parchment within her hand, voice caught within her throat, "Hello...I...I have this letter. I...did you write this? Or...someone you know? I..."

Maker's Balls. That introduction could not have been worse. Stupid nerves. Why couldn't Solona be confident and talk like a normal person? The poor girl probably didn't know what she was saying with her verbal diarrhea.

The girl blinked, a small hand reaching out to take the parchment. Solona cleared her throat, attempting to remedy the situation whilst the girl overlooked the letter, "I...my name is Solona, and...I am sorry to bother you, I just...I am looking for-for my sister, and-"

Solona's voice faltered as the letter fell from the girl's trembling hand and fluttered upon the ground. The mage looked upon the girl whose lips lightly quivered, her eyes shining and voice soft, "You...you are her. You answered. Solona-the Herald! Yes, yes, it is I that wrote the letter! I thought...I thought I would never see you, would never find my sister-but here you are!"

Solona was taken aback to be pulled into a firm hug by the shorter girl, her arms slowly and awkwardly returning the hug. The hug lasted longer than Solona expected-nor wanted. Was this normal? The mage was not sure. But surely Cole would sense if something was wrong. He was not too far off.

Slowly, the shorter girl pulled away from the hug, her hands clasped with Solona's, "It is so wonderful to finally meet you, sister! I...I am Arella. Arella!" The freckled girl exclaimed, blue eyes gleaming.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and have a good day!


End file.
